Solstice Night
by XtinethePirate
Summary: The holiday on Coruscant... a time for Masters and Padawans to celebrate together in the Temple. A progression of years seen through the eyes of Anakin Skywalker on this special night. Slight AU, OA slash later. Rating changed to M for chap. 8
1. Anakin is 9 years old

I know, I know. I really should be working more on Chiaro (hangs head in shame) but this idea struck me on December 24th, (hence the subject matter, lol) and wouldn't leave me alone until I got it down! It's not my usual style of writing... at times there's far more of a "stream of consciousness" feel to it, I find. But... tell me what you thought! Reviews are always welcome!

The story will be 8-9 chapters long (I'm in the middle of chapter 8 right now... and if it gets too long, it will be split in two), each one of them set on the Solstice Night, each at a different time in Anakin's life - hence the chapter titles.

AU! The mission to Naboo did NOT include fighting off Darth Maul, so Qui-Gon is still alive. Obi-Wan was made a Knight for his courage in fighting back all enemies in rescuing the Queen.

THANK YOU to my darling twin, TM, who stuck by me when this story spiralled far beyond my original intentions, and painstakingly did review after review - on this chapter especially. You had the hard task of telling me to cut out 3 pages of stuff, darling, and it has made the story better because of it!

Also to Vee and Liana, HAPPY B-DAY to both of you on Saturday! Sorry that this isn't a PWP... I'll have to make it up to both of you, eh?

Disclaimer: I'm only playing in the universe until the big kids come and kick me off the swings.

* * *

**Solstice Night**

**I – Anakin is 9 years old**

It was Anakin's first Solstice on Coruscant, the first time he had celebrated the holiday at all. He hadn't even known that Jedi were _allowed_ to celebrate, but Master Qui-Gon had smiled and laughed in that gruff way of his, and responded that even Jedi let their hair down sometimes. Of course, Master Qui-Gon had long hair that he kept down _all _the time, so Anakin didn't _really _understand. He certainly couldn't let _his_ hair down, now that it was cropped so short. It felt weird when he touched it, prickling under his hands.

Obi-Wan had laughed when Anakin complained about that, ruffling the short bristles amiably saying only: "You'll get used to it eventually, runt."

It certainly didn't _feel_ that way to Anakin. He didn't like being called a runt either. He wasn't a little boy any more; after all he was _practically_ a Jedi. And Obi-Wan wasn't all that tall anyways, at least not so much that he should be allowed to call Anakin that.

_Runt_. It made him scowl just to think about it. Huh. _Obi-Wan_ was a runt when compared to Master Qui-Gon. Anakin had already resolved to grow up to be _much_ taller than _Master Kenobi_, just so he could laugh and ruffle the older Jedi's hair like Obi-Wan did to him now. See how much _he_ liked it.

Anakin _hated_ having his hair ruffled like that, it already stood up all funny since Master Qui-Gon had cut it for him; it didn't need any help to look messy. He didn't mind when Qui-Gon did it, or when the older Jedi pulled on Anakin's Padawan braid; he was gentler than Obi-Wan was. Besides, Qui-Gon was Anakin's Master, so it was allowed. It bothered him when Obi-Wan tugged his braid though – now that Obi-Wan was _Master_ Kenobi, he no longer had a braid that Anakin could pull back. Not that Anakin would be allowed to anyways, since Obi-Wan outranked him.

Some things in life just weren't fair.

But it was Solstice Night, and Qui-Gon was excited to have Obi-Wan joining them. Anakin had never seen his Master so… _agitated_. Anakin didn't know what the big deal was. It was just Obi-Wan, after all. Sure, they hadn't really spoken to him that often in almost a year now; he'd been away too much. But that was no reason to get all wound up about him coming back to the Temple in time for the Holiday. _Anakin_ certainly wasn't happy about it – he had taken it for granted that it was just going to be him and Qui-Gon spending the day together.

His Master had been so enthusiastic as he explained about the Solstice; the one night of the galactic standard year when all the Padawans and almost all of the Jedi Masters returned home to the Temple. It was a traditional gathering of families in the galaxy and, in a sense, the Jedi were a family as well. It was a time to be shared with loved ones. Qui-Gon's eyes had crinkled at the corners as he spoke – he always smiled with his eyes when he was _really_ happy, Anakin had noticed.

He liked it when just the two of them were together. At home, Mom had always spent the entire evening with him on special days, if Watto gave them time off. And today was _supposed_ to be special. All his classes in the Temple had been cancelled for the day, so Anakin had assumed that he was going to spend the entire time with Master Qui-Gon. He had really been looking forward to it.

Then Qui-Gon had told him that _Obi-Wan_ was coming over. Anakin wanted to do nothing more than hide out in his room after hearing _that._ But Qui-Gon had been smiling for the whole _week_ getting ready for tonight, so Anakin would behave himself.

Well… if Obi-Wan did, at least.

They didn't spend much time together, the three of them, but Obi-Wan always managed to make Anakin feel like a stupid little kid. All the other Padawans loved him, Master Qui-Gon obviously thought he was _perfect_, but all he did was tease Anakin in that quiet way of his. It didn't help that Anakin didn't know whether to love him or hate him. Sometimes Anakin wondered if that was what it was always like to have an older brother. A _much _older brother. One who was almost never home.

Obi-Wan was just so… so… _cool. _He had been a Padawan for long enough that he still remembered what a pain it could be. Even though he was an accomplished Knight now, he never got impatient when it was his turn to teach sabre forms to the younglings. Padawans were always stopping him in the hallways to ask him questions that they would ordinarily put to their Masters – Obi-Wan was just that much more _approachable. _

And he was strong. And brave. But not arrogant or scary, like Master Windu seemed to be. He was… he was just _Obi-Wan._

Anakin wanted to grow up to be a Jedi Master like him. Better yet, he would be even _better_ than Obi-Wan. He would become the best Jedi ever, to impress both Obi-Wan _and_ Master Qui-Gon. That would be _wizard_.

But his trials were still a few years away, so for tonight, he would content himself with being the perfect Padawan. But only until Obi-Wan called him _runt_. That would be the end of the truce, as far as Anakin was concerned, no matter _how_ special the Solstice was supposed to be.

He and Master Qui-Gon had spent the last few days decorating their small apartment, but most of today had been spent on last-minute details. Qui-Gon had been going in and out of the apartment all day, buying food, setting up the _pinear_ tree – using the Force after it fell over twice – and moving different decorations back and forth around the common room, trying to find the perfect place for each one. All the while, he kept humming happy little Solstice jingles to himself.

Anakin had never heard Master Qui-Gon sing before. He had a nice voice, Anakin guessed – he had only ever heard his mother singing before that, so he wasn't sure how to judge. But it sounded all right, even if the songs themselves got irritating after awhile.

Thetree was Anakin's favourite part of the Solstice so far. They didn't have trees on Tatooine, and he hadn't seen any on Coruscant outside of the Temple Gardens. Now he had one of his very own, if only for a few nights. The _pinear_ had ended up in one corner of the common room, right in front of the window, and Anakin loved to bury his face in the deep green needles, inhaling the fresh scent deeply. The entire Temple was decked out in similar greenery as well, and Master Yoda had used his Force-powers to levitate decorations onto the highest limbs – ones that even Master Windu and Master Qui-Gon couldn't reach.

Now that it was evening, Qui-Gon had turned down the thermostat in the apartment in favour of lighting a fire in the grate – the only time of year that they did so, he had explained, as wood was so scarce on Coruscant. It was a luxury that the Temple even procured the _pinears_, as they were extremely expensive; but some days were important enough to spend a little more than usual, Qui-Gon said.

Anakin glanced over at his Master again. Qui-Gon was sitting in his favourite chair. He had _said_ that he wanted to catch up on a book that Master Windu (Qui-Gon called him _Mace_ all the time, but Anakin didn't believe that the stern Jedi Master really had a first name) had given him, but Anakin knew better. His Master hadn't turned a page of the codex in the last hour, and Anakin saw how the older Jedi kept glancing towards the door, while drumming his fingers impatiently on the arm of the chair.

It made Anakin want to laugh, since Qui-Gon was _always_ lecturing him to be patient. But it was the Solstice, and Anakin was on his best behaviour, so he decided not to point that out.

A chime on the door, and Anakin leapt from the couch, running to answer it as Qui-Gon glanced up from the book he was pretending to read. Anakin could feel his Master start to smile even before the door opened to reveal an impressively stern-faced Obi-Wan Kenobi.

"Good evening, Master," Anakin said as politely as he could, inclining his head as was expected of a junior Padawan. He had seen that the young Jedi Knight was trying hard not to smile, and staring at the floor let Anakin grin without it being seen.

"You've grown, runt," Obi-Wan quipped, a smirk lighting up his grey-blue eyes as he rumpled Anakin's hair with one hand – to a squawk of protest. "Master, you _finally_ managed to teach the kid some manners?"

"I'm _not_ a runt!" Anakin protested heatedly. _Sith_! The evening hadn't even _started_ and already Obi-Wan was teasing him. He glared at the young Jedi's back, but Obi-Wan had already moved past him into the room, arms spread wide.

Qui-Gon laughed heartily as he seized his former apprentice into a tight bear-hug, making Anakin giggle as the taller Master lifted Obi-Wan clear off the ground in his enthusiasm.

"Master! _Master!_ Put me down, I'm not a Padawan any longer!" Anakin laughed helplessly at Obi-Wan's desperate tone, seeing the way that the younger Jedi clung tightly to Qui-Gon's shoulders. Anakin _loved_ being picked up like that, so he was certain that Obi-Wan was just pretending to be upset.

Qui-Gon laughed, setting Obi-Wan back on his feet. The younger man made a big display of straightening his rumpled robes with an air of injured pride. Qui-Gon just grinned, throwing one arm companionably over Obi-Wan's shoulders. "You never let me do that when you _were_ a Padawan; it would have offended your dignity too much."

"And it doesn't, now that I'm a Knight?"

Qui-Gon's smile faded slightly into fond reminiscence as he clapped one hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "It's been too long, Obi-Wan," he said softly. "You were a good apprentice."

Anakin's eyes narrowed slightly at the subtle slur. Was Qui-Gon implying that he _wasn't_ a good apprentice? That wasn't fair, Obi-Wan had been around for _forever_ as a Padawan, but Anakin had only been in the Temple for a few months. But Qui-Gon, perhaps sensing Anakin's distress, caught his Padawan's eye over Obi-Wan's shoulder and nodded slightly. Anakin smiled back at him.

Obi-Wan had ducked his head at the compliment, but Anakin still saw the blush of pride that tinted his cheeks in the gleam of the fire. "I've missed you as well, Master…."

Anakin frowned, looking from one face to the other. That wasn't what Qui-Gon had said. Anakin didn't want his Master to _miss_ Obi-Wan. The Jedi was still there, after all, but Qui-Gon was _Anakin's_ Master now. And he could sense something else, something beyond what the two Jedi Knights were saying. It made him sigh quietly. His mom had always told him that it was best to be honest, because people only hurt themselves and each other by lying. He didn't think that Master Obi-Wan would _try_ to hurt Master Qui-Gon, or the other way around, but they were obviously both keeping something secret. The Force felt… different around them. It was…_brighter_. Anakin didn't know how else to describe it. He could touch his Master's mind through their bond of course, but he didn't want Qui-Gon to get angry at him if this was something private.

It didn't last for long anyways. Obi-Wan was the first to recover himself, continuing his sentence with a wry smile, "only it's not _Obi-Wan_ any longer, but _Master Kenobi."_

Anakin giggled at the obvious pride with which the Jedi pronounced his new title, earning a mock glare from Obi-Wan.

"Be careful runt, or else I'll assign you eight hours of extra lightsabre practice."

Anakin eyed the young Master warily, directing his words to Qui-Gon. "He can't do that… can he?"

"He most certainly can, my young apprentice. Although," and here Qui-Gon turned back to Obi-Wan, "if I may make a suggestion, _Master Kenobi_, extra meditation would be a worse punishment for my little imp here. He enjoys sabre training a little too much."

"Master!" Anakin protested, scandalized that Qui-Gon had taken Obi-Wan's side over his.

"Come in, come in…" Qui-Gon waved Obi-Wan towards the couch, pouring the Jedi Knight a glass of his favourite cognac. Anakin took advantage of his Master's distraction to hop onto the couch next to Obi-Wan, eyeing the young Jedi curiously. Obi-Wan stared back at him, looking a little unnerved by the scrutiny.

"Your hair has grown," Anakin finally pronounced.

"Well… yes…." Obi-Wan said slowly, self-consciously pushing one hand through the reddish-gold strands.

"You look older like that," Anakin professed frankly, stretching out to touch Obi-Wan's hair. It looked really soft. But Obi-Wan jerked his head away at the last moment, a frown of confusion on his face.

"See?" Anakin said matter-of-factly, sitting back on his heels and nodding. "It's because you frown too much." His mom had always told him that if he made faces, they would stick that way. Maybe Qui-Gon had never told Obi-Wan that, so he didn't know that his face would stick in a scowl some day. "_That's_ why you look old!"

"I… I most certainly do _not_ look _old,_" Obi-Wan protested vehemently, but Anakin noticed the impulsive way he raked one hand through his hair again, the furrow that deepened between his eyebrows. "I'm only 26, for Sith's sake."

Anakin rolled his eyes. Some adults were just so _dense_. "That's _ancient_."

"Don't tell Master Qui-Gon that. He's a lot older than I am." Obi-Wan replied sharply, looking affronted as he folded his arms defensively across his chest.

Anakin dismissed that argument with a wave of his hand. "But he's a Jedi Master, so it's ok that he's old."

"Well, I am too!" Obi-Wan snapped, tugging Anakin's braid lightly. "I don't have one of these anymore, _Padawan_, which means that I'm a Jedi Knight as well."

Anakin snatched his braid away quickly, and studied the young Jedi's face, moving forward until Obi-Wan leaned back, brow furrowed. "You're frowning _again!_" Anakin pronounced finally, shaking his head in despair. "You're gonna get wrinkles if you frown all the time," he added helpfully.

Obi-Wan blinked for a moment at him, before scowling and shaking his head. "_You're_ just abnormally cheerful!" he said sharply, looking away from Anakin to stare straight into the fire.

Anakin bounced on the couch slightly, pursing his lips. He didn't know if he had made Obi-Wan _really_ mad or just _kinda_ mad. Obi-Wan _always_ looked stern, so it was hard to tell. He seriously debated asking Obi-Wan if he wanted to see the new droid that Anakin was tinkering with, as a peace offering. Fortunately, his Master spared him from having to make such a concession.

"Obi-Wan was always too serious for his own good," Qui-Gon agreed absently, returning to the couch and handing Master Kenobi his glass of the cognac. "I never met a boy who smiled less."

"Oh." Anakin looked up at the older Jedi, who was smiling fondly, then back at the bemused Obi-Wan. "I just thought it was because he didn't like me."

"Nonsense," Qui-Gon chuckled as Obi-Wan muttered "I _don't_."

Anakin, however, caught the younger Jedi's words, and his eyes widened in hurt surprise, his expression crumbling as he withdrew to his side of the couch with a wounded air. He had thought that Obi-Wan _liked_ him, had hoped that the teasing was just Obi-Wan's way of showing affection. That's what his mom had always said when the girls his age on Tatooine had made fun of him. But Obi-Wan actually _hated_ him?

He sniffled quietly, biting his lip and turning away from the younger Jedi so that Obi-Wan couldn't see the tears in his eyes.

"Oh for Sith's sake…" Obi-Wan muttered, rubbing one hand over his chin with a faint grimace. He really wasn't any good with children, Anakin noted blearily. Maybe he didn't like them. Maybe it was just _Anakin_ that he didn't like.

"I… Anakin, I don't _hate_ you at all," Obi-Wan floundered, looking desperately lost. Anakin didn't say anything, momentarily distracted from his sadness by the fact that the Jedi who had fearlessly fought against the Trade Federation on Naboo could find talking to a kid so hard. Qui-Gon never had that problem. Of course, Obi-Wan had never had a Padawan of his own, Anakin conceded charitably. Or maybe it was just hard to be nice to a… a…_runt_ that he didn't like at _all. _

With effort, Obi-Wan continued, shrugging out of his over-cloak. "Look, I brought this back for you from the Outer Rim…," Obi-Wan fished into a pocket for something, extending it to Anakin with a worried half-smile.

Sniffling loudly, Anakin tentatively took the package from Obi-Wan's hand and tore at the wrapping. Obi-Wan had brought _him_ a gift? He had actually thought to bring something? He _did_ like Anakin after all! The other Padawans would be _so_ jealous when he showed them! But his joy was short lived, as he realized that he had nothing to offer in return. It made him feel very small inside.

Obi-Wan was watching him closely, and that worried scowl was starting to appear on his face again. Anakin didn't want him to be mad when he found out that he wasn't getting a present.

"I'm… I'm sorry, I don't have… I don't have anything to give to you, Master Kenobi, sir," he mumbled, holding his small package tightly. It was the first thing he had ever been given of his very own – well aside from the robes and his room, but _every_ Padawan got that so it didn't count, not _really_, – and he was terrified that Obi-Wan would want to take it back.

Obi-Wan looked perplexed. Anakin caught the glance that passed between him and Master Qui-Gon, and felt the warm rush of reassurance along his training bond.

"It's nothing very interesting, runt," Obi-Wan said quickly, staring down at his hands for a moment, before meeting Anakin's eyes. "I… I just thought that you might like it. I didn't expect anything in return."

"The point of the Solstice is just being together, Anakin," Qui-Gon added quietly. "Gifts aren't necessary, but something that is done for those we care about."

Anakin blinked tearily at his Master, casting an uncertain look in Obi-Wan's direction. So… that meant that Obi-Wan had actually… actually _wanted_ to get Anakin a gift? That meant that he didn't hate Anakin after all! He smiled shakily, turning to beam at Obi-Wan, who still looked faintly unnerved. He really _wasn't_ good with kids, Anakin noted with a silent sigh. It was obviously something that Obi-Wan would to have to work on if he was going to spend more time with Anakin and Qui-Gon. Anakin resolved to take on _that_ responsibility as soon as possible. _Somebody_ had to take charge of this relationship, after all.

Qui-Gon smiled, motioning elegantly towards the parcel and giving Anakin an encouraging nod. "Why don't you open it?"

Needing no further persuasion, Anakin ripped away the bright wrapping paper. "Wizard!" he exclaimed, holding up the small droid that was revealed.

"It was in the palace on Bocci, and the damn thing kept following me around when I was trying to sneak into the vizier's quarters," Obi-Wan said with a faint grin. "I don't think that it liked me being there at all. I'm afraid I… lost my temper with it," he reached out to poke at the silent droid. "The palace staff were just going to get rid of it – it was apparently the last of an outdated model. I thought that you might be able to fix it?"

Anakin nodded absently, already prying off a hatch on the side of the small droid, peering inside at the mangled wiring. Fixing this would be no problem, not after building C-3P0. Then he could have another playmate, or even better, maybe he could fix up the droid so that it could make his bed and clean up his room and….

"Bocci?" Qui-Gon was saying quietly. "That's on the Outer Rim, is it not? The entire sector is in the middle of a violent rebellion…."

Obi-Wan shot him a grin. "I'm sorry I didn't bring anything back for you Master, but I didn't know if you would prefer a corrupt adviser to the crown, a bribery shipment of glitterstim, or --"

"A vibro-blade attack?" Qui-Gon concluded softly, brushing Obi-Wan's neck lightly with the tips of his fingers, pulling back the fabric of the Knight's undertunic.

Feeling a wave of distress from Obi-Wan, echoed by a deep sadness from Master Qui-Gon, Anakin tore his eyes away from the droid in front of him. His eyes instantly focused in on where Qui-Gon's fingers rested on the younger Jedi's neck, allowing Anakin to catch a glimpse of an angry red scar twisting down onto Obi-Wan's shoulder. The sight made him feel ill. He had seen slaves with far worse scars than that on Tatooine of course; not all slave Masters were as… as _kind_ really, as Watto had been. He had never beaten Anakin or his mother, after all, even though it would have been well within his rights to do so.

But a _Jedi_? They weren't supposed to be able to get hurt.

Anakin imagined what other scars Obi-Wan might have, wondered what kind of scars Master Qui-Gon had… and what marks he would carry by the time _he_ was a Jedi Master. It was scary to think about. But Obi-Wan dismissed it, pushing Qui-Gon's hand away with a tight smile.

"I'm fine, Master," he assured Qui-Gon quietly. Anakin hoped that he would be that brave someday. The mark looked like it had hurt a _lot_.

"Obi-Wan, the Council should know better than to send you on these dangerous missions before you're assigned to a partner –"

Anakin looked up, startled. He had never heard Qui-Gon sound so _angry_ before, and directed at the Council no less. He had moved from the chair to kneel in front of Obi-Wan. One hand was resting lightly on Obi-Wan's neck, but Anakin noticed that the other was gripping the younger Jedi's knee tightly.

"Master… Qui-Gon… _please_." Obi-Wan caught the hand on his neck in his own. "Please. It's the Solstice. Can you just let it go?" When he saw that Qui-Gon was hesitating, Obi-Wan leaned forward slightly, eyes pleading. "For my sake?"

With a sigh, Qui-Gon relented, letting his hand drop back to his side. Anakin hesitated, once again feeling something… _else_ in the air. Qui-Gon felt… _scared_. It worried Anakin – he had never known his Master to be scared of anything. But he was now; he was scared for Obi-Wan.

Maybe Obi-Wan wasn't as strong as Anakin had thought…but no, that didn't make sense. Anakin had seen him fight on Naboo against all those droids, and besides, only the strongest of Jedi could have survived a vibro-blade slash to the neck like that.

But if Obi-Wan was so strong, then why did he feel scared as well? And what was surprising was that he was scared _of_ Qui-Gon. It was a different kind of fear than Qui-Gon's was, resonating on a different level in Anakin's mind. Anakin shot a look at the older Jedi, but there wasn't any anger on his face. Besides, Qui-Gon had told Anakin Jedi didn't believe in beatings as a punishment, the way the slave masters did, so Obi-Wan didn't have to worry about _that_.

But Anakin could feel Obi-Wan's tension through the Force, could feel the way that his heart had sped up the moment that Qui-Gon had touched his neck. He was _scared_. While Qui-Gon was fearing for Obi-Wan's life, Obi-Wan…he was tense just because Qui-Gon had _touched_ him. His nervousness flared brightly through the Force, edged with something… some sort of _longing_.

It passed in a moment, leaving Anakin reassured that his Master and the Obi-Wan weren't angry at each other for any reason. He wriggled away as Qui-Gon joined them on the couch, opting instead to move himself to a comfortable chair perpendicular to the chesterfield. He could tinker more with his new droid that way, as well as keeping an eye on both his Master and Obi-Wan just in case. But he had nothing to worry about, as the two older Jedi were already quietly discussing old missions – stuff that was frankly boring to Anakin's mind.

And the fire was warm, and the sip of cognac that Qui-Gon had let him try earlier was humming pleasantly in his brain, and the _pinear_ tree smelled _so good_….

---

Anakin only realized he had drifted off when he woke suddenly. Somebody had covered him with a blanket, tucking it tightly in around his curled-up form. The room was darker, the fire having collapsed into a few fitfully glowing embers. Though his muscles shrieked in protest, he kept himself perfectly still; uncertain of what had woken him.

"Master Kenobi…"

That was Qui-Gon's voice, but it sounded oddly rough, strained almost.

"Don't… don't start calling me that as well." Obi-Wan's voice also sounded ragged. Anakin let his eyes open to blue slivers. The two Jedi were standing by the hallway that lead to Anakin's and Qui-Gon's bedrooms. Although they were doing nothing more than looking at each other, Anakin could feel the tension that thrummed through the air, twining between the two men.

"Obi-Wan –"

"Master, _please_…" Obi-Wan reached up, his fingers brushing faintly against Qui-Gon's cheek. Anakin heard how his voice trembled faintly. "Ever since I was a Padawan, Master, you _know_ that I…." he trailed off, his breathing ragged. "I thought of you every day when I was in that hell-hole on Bocci, just _waiting_ to see your face again. I've waited for so long. _Please…_."

Anakin held his breath as Obi-Wan took a step forward to wrap his arms around Qui-Gon's neck, running the fingers of one hand through the older Jedi's hair. Anakin could feel Qui-Gon stiffen in response, and gasped as he suddenly pushed Obi-Wan back against the wall. Qui-Gon wasn't angry at Obi-Wan was he? But no… he was _kissing _the younger Jedi Knight. And the tension in the air was gone, now that the two of them were tightly pressed together.

Anakin rolled his eyes, settling back more comfortably into his chair, though trying to be quiet. So _that's_ what it had all been about; Qui-Gon being cheerful all week, Obi-Wan being scared around his former Master. It wasn't _that _big a deal, kissing somebody. Anakin had kissed girls on Tatooine before, just to find out what all the fuss was all about. He had even kissed Kitster on a dare once.

Maybe it was different for Jedi. Master Qui-Gon could have asked Anakin if he wanted help, though….

Anakin smiled to himself, closing his eyes tightly once more. He could feel contentment flowing through the Force now, and he sighed happily. He had a family again….

---

"Runt. Hey, runt."

Somebody was shaking him by the shoulder. Anakin whined a sleepy protest; turning away from the speaker and pulling his blanket up over his head. "Don' wanna get up…" he moaned slightly.

He heard a sigh, and opened his eyes a crack to see Obi-Wan, wearing a sleepy smile and dishevelled hair. Then strong arms were around him, lifting him effortlessly from the chair. Automatically, he curled his head towards the warmth of the Jedi's chest, one hand draping loosely over Obi-Wan's shoulders. He could feel the ridge of the scar Qui-Gon had noticed earlier under his fingertips, and another one under his cheek – right over Obi-Wan's heart.

Then he was being set down gently on his bed. Anakin whimpered as the warmth of his Jedi-pillow tried to pull away, and he wound his arms tighter around Obi-Wan's neck, curling closer. The mattress compressed next to him, and there was a hand stroking his hair. Murmuring in sleepy contentment, Anakin snuggled closer, sinking back into sleep.

---

"Obi-Wan…?" Qui-Gon paused in the doorway, a smile curving his tired features at the sight that met his eyes. The younger Jedi Knight had slipped away earlier on, muttering something about 'putting the runt to bed'. Too sleepy and content to protest, Qui-Gon had reluctantly let the younger man out of his arms; curling over into the warm patch of blankets that Obi-Wan had left behind.

Apparently, Anakin had equal difficulty allowing Obi-Wan to escape from his bed. The boy had his arms tightly wound around Obi-Wan's neck, his head pillowed against the young Knight's chest. The result was that Obi-Wan was forced to sleep in a half-sitting position, serving as Anakin's mattress. Qui-Gon chuckled, reaching over to gently unwind Anakin's arms from Obi-Wan's neck, easing his apprentice back down onto the bed proper and off of Obi-Wan.

Sleepy eyes fluttered open – the green predominating now that Obi-Wan was tired – and met Qui-Gon's own slowly. Realizing that he was free of his Padawan-barnacle, Obi-Wan stretched languorously and winced as his back cracked loudly in the silent room. "That runt of yours certainly is clingy, isn't he?"

"I don't know what it is about Padawans… somehow they always find a way to wrangle their way into the sternest heart." Qui-Gon leaned forward, brushing his lips against Obi-Wan's. "_You_ certainly did, against my better judgement."

Obi-Wan purred in contentment, leaning forward into the chaste kiss. "Well, I'm still glad that you're the kid's Master, and not me. I have no patience with children." He replied, stifling a yawn as they broke apart again.

"You might surprise yourself one day," Qui-Gon replied calmly, gently tugging Obi-Wan to his feet. "For now, it's too early to think about that. Come back to bed…."

"Oh, I'm glad that you woke me up for _that_," Obi-Wan grumbled, but willingly allowed himself to be lead from the room.

* * *

TBC! 

Please remember that reviews are love!

I want to take a moment to say HA! To TM as well, becuse she _finally_ felt the Obi/Qui. I told you I just needed to find the right fic to turn your head! YAY!

Xtine


	2. Anakin is 12 years old

**Hello again! **

Thank you to everybody for such _squeetastic_ reviews! I don't think I've ever received such thoughtful and indepth comments and compliments! They made me very excited about posting this, the second chapter!

Loves and huggles, as always, to my very special BETA, who wrestled with this chapter only to be snapped at by an ungrateful author. (shamefaced). I'm sorry, darling. All your suggestions were valid, and I appreciate all your hard work! Blame Arthur Miller and _Death of a Salesman!_ I LOVE you!

(And get some sleep tonight, ok?)

I'll do more individual remarks next time! But thanks to **everyone**for such **_wonderful_ **reviews. You really made my day... I wasn't too certain about this story at first, but it's come to have a special place in my heart, as it's different from what I usually write!

Hope you enjoy the chapter!

**

* * *

II – Anakin is 12 years old.**

It was the night of the Solstice.

Anakin paced distractedly around the apartment, glancing towards the door anxiously every ten minutes. They should have returned by _now_. It was tradition for Master Kenobi to spend the holiday with him and Qui-Gon; they had done so for every Temple holiday during the past three years – ever since Anakin was nine. It was a tradition, and tradition was what the entire Jedi Order seemed to run on, Anakin had noticed.

But this year a mission had come up on Alderaan a week before the Solstice, and his Master had been obliged to accept it. Qui-Gon had told Anakin that it was his _duty _as a Jedi Knight to go wherever the Council wished, and on a moment's notice. But the apartment felt oddly empty without him there, especially at this time of year. There were no decorations set out, no fire burning in the grate, no _pinear_ tree in the corner.

They had planned to go out and get the tree together this year, all three of them. Anakin had grumbled a bit, since that had always been the part of the holiday that he and Qui-Gon did alone together. But being with Obi-Wan made Qui-Gon happy, and Anakin liked it when his Master was happy. Even if it meant that he had to put up with Obi-Wan intruding a little more into his life.

For the past three years, Anakin had been seeing more and more of the young Jedi Knight. He knew well enough not to come running into Qui-Gon's room in the middle of the night when he was scared, lest he find the two Jedi Knights together

Not that he really _needed_ to sneak into Qui-Gon's bed any more, he was twelve now, after all, and too old to be having nightmares. At least that's what he told himself. Jedi didn't have nightmares after all.

But Anakin missed knowing that he _could_ sleep with Qui-Gon if he _wanted_ to. He didn't like having to compete with the other Jedi Knight for Qui-Gon's affections. Obi-Wan had been Qui-Gon's Padawan a long time ago, now it was _Anakin's_ turn. He could tell that Obi-Wan didn't like having to compete with him either, but that was the only thing they could agree on.

He and Obi-Wan had come to a sort of truce, though. When Qui-Gon wasn't around, the two of them had a shaky alliance. Obi-Wan would help Anakin with his boring assignments, like economics and political science; making Anakin laugh with his sharp remarks about the Senators and the other politicians in the Senate. Obi-Wan was _funny_ sometimes. In return, Anakin tried not to be '_too_ irritating' when Obi-Wan was working on a mission report, meditating, or practicing his katas.

Anakin loved watching the young Knight training; he knew that he learned more just from studying Obi-Wan for an hour every few days than he _ever_ had from his actual instructors. And Obi-Wan got this little smile on his face when he knew Anakin was watching him, one that made Anakin tuck his knees up against his chest and grin. Sometimes, Obi-Wan would even spar with Anakin, or help him master a difficult new form – he would grumble the entire time, of course, so that Anakin would know that nothing had _really_ changed between them, but that was all part of the routine. Anakin didn't take offence at it any more.

Sometimes Obi-Wan would be the one to check in on him when Master Qui-Gon was away on solo missions, and Anakin would pretend that Obi-Wan was his real Master. He wondered often what that would be like. Obi-Wan was a lot younger than Qui-Gon, more _intense_ than his patient and relaxed Master. When Qui-Gon taught him, Anakin was motivated by the will to please. Anakin wanted to show Qui-Gon how talented he was, that he was worthy of being the 'Chosen One' of prophecy – the prophecy that his Master so firmly believed in.

With Obi-Wan, Anakin constantly struggled to excel, for nothing more than the grudging look of admiration that it would earn him. Rare as that approval was, it always made Anakin feel strangely light; as though he could float through the rest of the exercise without his feet once hitting the mats. Obi-Wan was not so free in his praise as Master Qui-Gon was.

Anakin wondered if it would be the same if Obi-Wan were his Master – if he would be as strict, as reluctant to admit that Anakin had done well. With Qui-Gon, Anakin had to live up to some nebulous prophecy – his Master never said so, never had unrealistic expectations, but it was a burden that Anakin still felt. With Obi-Wan, he was only trying to beat _Obi-Wan_. He wanted to be better than the young Jedi Knight had been at Anakin's age. It was easier to compete against a real person.

Anakin loved Qui-Gon the best, of course – Qui-Gon was a lot less strict than Obi-Wan was, and he laughed more and acted like a father, rather than a Jedi. He _loved_ Anakin, instead of just _tolerating_ him, like the Council did.

But Anakin couldn't help but be curious sometimes. It would be nice, he decided. Obi-Wan could be a lot of fun when the two of them were together. At least, when he wasn't being grumpy, or teasing Anakin.

But then Qui-Gon would come home, and the cease-fire between the two of them would end. Anakin would instantly look to his _real_ Master for approval in everything, rather than Obi-Wan. And Anakin knew that in turn, he completely faded out of Master Kenobi's regard. Whenever Qui-Gon Jinn was around, Obi-Wan's attention was reserved solely for him, as though there were no one in the galaxy but the two of them.

Anakin hated that, sometimes. He could see the way the younger Knight's face just lit up whenever Qui-Gon walked into the room, with the joy of being _with_ somebody special. No one ever brightened up like that for _him_, not anymore; not since he had left mom behind on Tatooine. It would have made Anakin sad, had he not seen how close the two Jedi Knights were. Knowing _that_ made Anakin happy, even though he kind of hated Obi-Wan for having that much of Qui-Gon's love.

But nothing would ever stop him from shamelessly competing for his Master's affections.

He missed Qui-Gon. It had been a long week without him. Sith hell, he even missed Obi-Wan… his grades hadn't been as good ever since the younger Master had been sent on more and more assignments.

Qui-Gon had _promised_ him that the mission would be an easy one, that he would be back on time for the celebrations, and he hadn't broken a single promise to Anakin yet. He had said he would be home in time, so he would be. It was that simple; it always had been.

Still, Anakin had felt better when he found out that Obi-Wan would be joining Qui-Gon on Alderaan. Master Kenobi was much younger, and already had a reputation in the Temple for being one of the most adept Jedi Masters in combat. Qui-Gon, though still more than capable, was getting older after all. Anakin was worried about anything happening to him. He would never say anything to either Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan about his concerns – he was only a Padawan, after all; he wasn't supposed to second-guess his Master's decisions or his competency. But sometimes, when he and his Master were being sent on a mission, Anakin would see worry that he felt echoed in Obi-Wan's eyes.

But he didn't have to worry this time around; the mission wasn't anything dangerous. It was nothing more than another round of negotiation with the Trade Federation; important but not life-threatening. Not like the mission to Naboo, where they had found Anakin, Master Kenobi had rescued princess Amidala from the bad guys, and Anakin had ended up blowing up a Trade Federation vessel. That had been _amazing_.

Not that Qui-Gon had let him near the controls of a space fighter ever since, Anakin noted with a frown.

He flopped down in a chair with exasperation, only to leap to his feet once more as the door hissed open. They were _back!_ Just when he had started to worry that the Solstice would be completely ruined, too.

"Master-" he began excitedly, only to falter. Obi-Wan stood there, staring down at Anakin as though they had never met before. His eyes looked red, almost swollen.

A sense of foreboding gnawed at Anakin's insides, but he pushed it aside roughly. Nothing was wrong. Qui-Gon had promised that they were going to spend the Solstice together, the way that they always had. And he had never broken a promise to Anakin. Not once.

"Hey, Obi-Wan," he said amicably, forcing a smile past his unease. "Is Qui-Gon going to be late again? Only I think that we should run out and _get _a tree before they're all sold out, and maybe even start decorating it? We could make it a big surprise for when he gets back –"

Obi-Wan closed his eyes tightly when Anakin said Qui-Gon's name, reaching out blindly with one had to steady himself against the doorframe. Anakin hesitated, feeling an intense wave of sadness and despair through the Force that almost knocked him over backwards. It was too strong, drowning out any other thoughts in his mind. Obi-Wan had _never_ had a problem shielding before, in fact he was frustratingly good at it. Had Anakin said something wrong? Had Master Kenobi and Master Qui-Gon fought? They seemed to argue a lot, but usually it was just teasing, and then both of them would gang up on Anakin and that was ok. Even when they actually got mad at each other, they always ended up making up almost right away – and Anakin would be sent over to stay with Ferus and his Master for the night. Anakin didn't like being kicked out of his rooms very much, but nor did he like seeing either one of them mad, so it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

But he hoped he didn't have to do it _tonight_. It was the Solstice, after all. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon could make up later, surely….

But something was different tonight. Obi-Wan looked _really_ sad. His eyelashes were all spiky and clumped together, as though there were tears caught in them. And his eyes… there was something wrong with his eyes. As though, even though Obi-Wan's body was standing there looking at Anakin, there was nothing inside. They were completely blank and empty. It made Anakin shiver, crossing his arms tightly over his chest the way Master Qui-Gon always did.

"Anakin…" Obi-Wan took a deep breath, moving to stand directly in front of the boy. Anakin forced himself to stay still, though every instinct warned him to retreat from this. To get away from this strange echo of a Jedi Knight. Obi-Wan's expression was so devoid of emotion, so _serious_, even worse than the way he had been when Anakin had first met him. Not the laughing, teasing Knight that had – grudgingly – become part of Anakin's family.

Anakin instantly ran through every misdeed he had done in the Temple while Qui-Gon had been away on the mission. Surely he hadn't done anything _that_ bad… aside from what he and Ferus had done to Master Windu's office, but no one could prove that that had been them, surely. So what…?

"Anakin. Qui-Gon is…. Master Jinn is – is dead." Obi-Wan said quietly, looking into Anakin's eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"What? What do you mean…?" Anakin laughed nervously, backing away and looking past Obi-Wan towards the door, half expecting Qui-Gon to come striding in, a wicked smile on his face. That would be just like his Master, playing a trick on Anakin like this. That was it. They were teasing him; that was the only possible explanation. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had somehow found out about Master Windu's office, and this was a scare tactic to get him to apologize. That was it. "That's not very funny, Obi-Wan."

It wasn't as if the office was _that_ badly messed up, anyways. Anakin was certain that the dye would come out eventually. Well, he was pretty sure. He hoped so, at least.

But Obi-Wan wasn't doing that almost-smile that he always had when he was taunting Anakin. Anakin had learned over the years that Obi-Wan was _terrible_ at disguising what he was feeling, and was always a few moments away from laughing when he was making fun of Anakin. Unless Master Windu had given Obi-Wan a crash-course on the proper way for a Jedi Master to scowl, something had to be seriously wrong. Of course, Anakin had never sabotaged Master Windu's office before, so that was probably part of it….

No. Any minute, Qui-Gon would come through the door. He couldn't really be _dead_. He was Master Qui-Gon after all. He couldn't be… he _couldn't_ be.

"You will call me Master Kenobi, Anakin," Obi-Wan said sternly, folding his arms in the sleeves of his cloak – stiff, severe. He wasn't looking at Anakin but past him instead, staring distantly out the window beyond. His eyes reflected silver in the dim wintery light, making him look even colder, like he was carved of ice. Anakin saw a faint tremor shake the Jedi Knight's body, before he reluctantly focused on Anakin again. Obi-Wan hesitated for a moment before kneeling down in front of Anakin, awkwardly placing one hand on his shoulder. "The Council has agreed to let me train you."

"No!" Anakin yelled, pushing Obi-Wan away. "You're lying to me! He's not dead! Qui-Gon's my Master, I don't want you!"

"I'm sorry, but I am your new Master now, Anakin –"

No, he was lying. He said he was sorry, but there was no sadness on his face. There was _nothing_ on Obi-Wan's face. Not even his habitual frown that Anakin had always teased him about. He was so formal all of a sudden, so distant and removed and not a _thing_ like the Obi-Wan that Anakin knew. He suddenly looked so much _older_. And his _eyes_….

"No!" Anakin scampered backwards as Obi-Wan walked towards him, scrambling away up onto the couch. He felt tears rising in his own eyes and tried to shove them aside. He was twelve years old, for Force's sake, he wasn't going to cry like a youngling. Not in front of Obi-Wan, who obviously didn't _care_ about Qui-Gon.

He _certainly_ didn't give a damn about Anakin. If _Obi-Wan_ had been the one to die, Qui-Gon would have hugged Anakin and told him that he was sorry; he would have stroked Anakin's hair and made him feel better. They both would have cried together, because Anakin knew that Qui-Gon actually _loved_ Obi-Wan. Loved him more than the Jedi Order who claimed that emotions were unnecessary, and should be released into the Force. Qui-Gon was actually _human_.

Not like Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan wasn't sad, he wasn't crying. He was just _staring_ at Anakin as though Obi-Wan was the one who was dead instead of Master Qui-Gon. Anakin hated that look. _Hated_ it. Because it meant that Obi-Wan had never really cared about Master Qui-Gon after all. No, he was just staring at Anakin with his arms folded in his robe, his face as expressionless as a piece of duracrete.

"I _hate_ you!" Anakin screamed, hands balling into fists. "_You _were supposed to protect him! You let him _die_! You were supposed to be there for him! I hate you! _I hate you!_ _You_ should have died, not him!" Not Qui-Gon, who had loved Anakin like a son, who had saved him from being raised as a slave, when Obi-Wan would have just left him behind. Not Qui-Gon, who was the closest thing Anakin had ever had to a father. It just wasn't _fair._ Obi-Wan should have been the one to die, not Qui-Gon.

"It's your fault. It's all your _fault!_ You couldn't even protect him, so what good are you?" Not Qui-Gon. Please, _Force_, he couldn't really be dead. No. No. No. He hadn't meant it when he had wondered about Obi-Wan becoming his Master, he didn't want a new Master, he wanted Qui-Gon, not Obi-Wan. It had just been pretend; just a game, he hadn't wanted it to be _real_.

"Anakin –" Obi-Wan's voice sounded strained, trembling slightly.

'Why didn't _you_ die? I _hate_ you! I HATE you!" Anakin saw the flash of pain in the young Knight's eyes, the only emotion he had revealed so far. He saw how Obi-Wan instinctively flinched back under Anakin's onslaught as though he had been grievously wounded. Obi-Wan pressed one hand instinctively over his heart, shoulders slumped.

Anakin hesitated for a second, perched trembling on the couch. Maybe he had been wrong, maybe Obi-Wan was just as hurt as he was. Anakin remembered the light that had appeared in Obi-Wan's face whenever Qui-Gon was near, the way that the young Jedi Master would turn his face towards the door seconds before Qui-Gon walked through it. That light was gone now; that was the blankness that Anakin saw in Obi-Wan's face. If Anakin closed his eyes, he could feel that same hollow feeling that he saw on Obi-Wan's face inside of himself, the void in his heart and mind where his training bond had been.

It was broken. Qui-Gon really was gone.

Anakin felt the tears rise in his eyes again, and start to spill silently down his cheeks, his heart aching suddenly for Obi-Wan. What must it have been like to be _there_ when it happened? Anakin had never seen anyone die before, not anyone that he knew and loved. But just as he had decided to apologise, wanting nothing more than to run over to Obi-Wan and bury his face in the Knight's cloak, Obi-Wan's expression hardened.

"I hate you too," Obi-Wan whispered venomously, breathing hard, his hands clenching into fists as well. Anakin rocked back at the force of the words, shocked by the depth of anger and bitterness that suddenly boiled over into the Force. "You took him from me, the moment you showed up on Tatooine. You took him from me… you were his _precious_ little Anakin." Obi-Wan sneered nastily, as though Anakin's name tasted bad in his mouth. "He rejected me as his Padawan because of you. Because. Of. _You._"

Anakin stared at him in mute shock, each word a physical blow. Was _that_ the reason Obi-Wan had been made into a Knight so quickly, because Qui-Gon hadn't _wanted_ him anymore? Was it really Anakin's fault? Was that why Obi-Wan had avoided him for so long after Naboo, because he resented Anakin for taking his place?

After their three years together, Obi-Wan hadn't ever really liked him after all. It had all just been an act for Qui-Gon's sake. That smile that he had worn when Anakin had watched him practice had been a fake, his complaints about Anakin real.

Anakin swallowed thickly, feeling as though he had been stabbed in the heart a second time. He had loved Obi-Wan too, not as much as Qui-Gon of course, but he had looked up to the younger Jedi Knight. But now it was obvious that Obi-Wan had never cared about him. Not like Qui-Gon had. Anakin hardened his heart, forcing away the tears that burned his eyes.

"Then why are you here? Just leave!" he screamed furiously, face contorted with grief. _Don't leave me, please don't abandon me, I don't want to be alone, I'm scared, please Obi-Wan…._

"Do you think I _want_ to train you?" Obi-Wan yelled back, his voice choked and rough, "He made me _promise_! He was dying in my arms, and the only thing he could think about was _you!_ I never _asked_ to be saddled with a…a worthless cast-off _slave_!"

Anakin winced, stung by the remark. He wasn't a slave. He _wasn't. _"I'm not a _slave_," he shouted, clenching his fists. "I'm a Padawan, and a better one than _you_ were! That's why Qui-Gon wanted _me_ instead –"

You're no Padawan; you're a useless, spoiled _brat_!" Obi-Wan's face was flushed with anger as he screamed at Anakin.

Anakin fell silent for a moment, cowering back against the cushions of the couch. He had never seen Obi-Wan lose his temper before, never like this. It was scary. But it was scarier to see that Obi-Wan was furious with Qui-Gon as well; even when the two Jedi had argued before, it hadn't been like _this_. Anakin could feel the tight curls of anger and resentment in Obi-Wan's Force-signature.

Anakin sniffed loudly – of course Obi-Wan was mad at Qui-Gon, now that he was stuck with a…a _useless brat _like Anakin. No wonder Obi-Wan was so furious at Anakin, when _he_ had been Qui-Gon's last thought.

Anakin felt a small swell of pride inside at that thought, a tiny warmth set against the crushing weight on his spirit. Qui-Gon had loved _him_ the best. _That's_ why Obi-Wan was so mad, he was _jealous_ of Anakin. That's why he wanted to hurt Anakin by being so mean.

But there were tears on the young Knight's cheeks; Anakin noticed them just as Obi-Wan cuffed them away roughly with the back of his hand. Anakin didn't care; Obi-Wan had let Qui-Gon die. And he had hurt Anakin, had hurt him by calling him useless, and worthless… and a _slave_. Well, now Anakin could see that Obi-Wan had a weakness as well. Anakin already knew that Obi-Wan hated him, so he would hurt the Jedi before _Anakin_ could be hurt any more. Summoning up all the anger and hurt and loneliness in his heart, Anakin lashed out at that vulnerability, his face twisting in anger.

"The only thing that you care about is that you can't _fuck_ him any more —"

There was the ringing sound of flesh meeting flesh. Anakin fell sideways onto the couch, tears leaking from his eyes as he cradled his burning cheek in one hand. Obi-Wan had _hit_ him. He hadn't expected to actually be _hit_. Qui-Gon had never laid a hand on Anakin, never when he was angry. Qui-Gon had _promised_ that no one would beat him ever again, now that he was a Jedi.

Another promise broken.

It _hurt_; the physical pain as much as the unexpectedness of the ringing slap. Anakin curled up into a ball, expecting more blows to rain down on him. He had seen how furious Obi-Wan was, had seen how the Jedi's face had twisted in anger right before his hand had connected with Anakin's cheek. He would beat Anakin, and it would be like being back on Tatooine, only his mom wouldn't be there to comfort him and kiss away his tears because there was _no one_ here who cared at all about Anakin, not anymore. Anakin drew a deep shuddering breath, tensed for the first fist to connect.

But there was only silence.

He heard Obi-Wan draw a shaky breath, ragged with the edge of tears, and let it out with a choked half-sob. Then there were receding footsteps, and the sound of a door hissing shut.

Assured that Obi-Wan was gone, Anakin slowly unclenched from his defensive posture. Covering his face in his hands, he finally allowed himself to cry, sobbing quietly against the couch. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Qui-Gon had told him that the path to becoming a Jedi would be hard, but it wasn't supposed to be like _this. _Obi-Wan hated him, the Council hated him, the other Padawans all hated him. He was completely alone in the Temple. Nobody cared about him anymore.

Anakin had never thought he would want to go back to being a slave. But at least there he would be with his mom, with the people who loved him. She would watch over him, no matter what happened. And no one would have to die. Not like this.

"Mom…" he sobbed against the cushions, hugging himself tightly. "_Mom_…."

Hours later, it seemed, when the storm had finally passed, Anakin reluctantly uncurled himself and staggered towards his room. He wanted to hide away there before Obi-Wan came back. Anakin didn't know where the Jedi – _I'll _never_ call him Master, _never! – had gone. And he didn't care at all. His eyes were burning, they felt heavy and itchy. His legs were numb from staying in one position for too long. He wanted nothing more than to collapse on is bed, pull the thin blanket over his head, and just forget today had ever happened. He scrubbed the back of his hand over his nose, sniffling loudly.

As he passed Qui-Gon's room – Obi-Wan's room now, Anakin reflected bitterly, a quiet sound caught his attention. Pausing in front of the door, he pressed his ear against the durasteel.

Nothing….

Silently, Anakin palmed the opening mechanism, halting it immediately so that the door was only open a sliver.

Obi-Wan was curled up on Qui-Gon's bed, in a tight ball as Anakin himself had been. Anakin bit his lower lip tightly, surprised. He had thought that the Jedi Knight had stormed out of the apartment completely, leaving Anakin all alone. But no…Obi-Wan hadn't gone very far at all. Had Anakin bothered to release his shields he would have noticed that.

Well fine. It was _his_ room now anyways, Anakin thought bitterly. But that quiet sound reached his ears again just as he was about to turn away. A muffled keening sob. Anakin hesitated, but crept silently into the room, pressing his back against the door as he studied Obi-Wan, with a leaden feeling in his stomach.

Though the Jedi's back was turned towards the door, Anakin could tell that Obi-Wan was clutching Qui-Gon's pillow as tightly as a crècheling would hug their favourite toy, his face pressed tightly against the pristine white fabric. His shoulders shook, and Anakin realized with a sudden sick feeling that Obi-Wan was crying too.

And it was partly his fault.

His mother had told him, no matter how bad he felt, he was never to make other people cry. _There's no use adding more misery to the world, Ani._ Obi-Wan had known Qui-Gon a lot longer than Anakin had. He had _loved_ Qui-Gon, probably as much as Anakin loved his mom. Sith, Obi-Wan had been with Qui-Gon longer than Anakin had lived at home on Tatooine.

Longer than Anakin had been _alive_, he realized with a queasy lurch in his stomach. Obi-Wan had been a Padawan for thirteen _years. _And Anakin had yelled at him, had told him that he should have died, had blamed him for Qui-Gon's death.

_He blames himself too._

The realization stunned him. Of course Obi-Wan would blame himself, hadn't he been with Qui-Gon on the mission where the Jedi Master had died? Anakin would blame himself, had he been in the same situation. Obi-Wan probably hated himself right now.

Anakin wriggled slightly as hot shame coloured his cheeks. Even if Obi-Wan hated him, Anakin didn't want to see the Jedi Knight crying….

Taking a step towards the bed, Anakin let up his shields slightly, enough that Obi-Wan would be able to sense him through the Force.

Instantly, Obi-Wan was sitting up, eyes wide with shock. Anakin could see the Jedi Knight reluctantly relax. Obi-Wan's eyes were red and his face blotchy from crying; Anakin knew that he probably looked just as bad. But there were lines around Obi-Wan's eyes and mouth that Anakin had never noticed before too, light streaks of grey at his temples. He had aged a lot since leaving on the mission to Alderaan.

"What do you want, Anakin?" Obi-Wan snapped, setting aside Qui-Gon's pillow immediately, as though embarrassed to be caught holding it, but his tone lacked the venom of his earlier words.

Silently, Anakin crawled onto the bed, throwing his arms around the startled Jedi's neck. After a moment, Obi-Wan's arms tentatively wrapped around Anakin's back, holding him comfortingly. Just like Qui-Gon had always done.

"I miss him," he whimpered against Obi-Wan's shoulder, pressing his face against the base of Obi-Wan's neck.

"I do too, Padawan," Obi-Wan sighed, his voice thick with tears. "I do too…"

_Padawan_, Anakin noticed hazily, through the veil of grief that was clouding his mind and making his thoughts sluggish. _He called me Padawan_.

Reaching out through the Force, he touched Obi-Wan's mind tentatively for reassurance, but felt the Jedi Knight tense at this sudden intrusion.

_(I'm sorry.)_ Anakin apologized silently. _(I'm sorry, Master.) _

For some reason, the title just felt right in his head. Master Obi-Wan. Master Kenobi. _My Master. _

Anakin knew Obi-Wan wouldn't be able to hear the words; he had tried it too many times with Master Qui-Gon to know that it didn't work like that; only feelings were _really_ conveyed through the Force, even when there _was_ a strong Master/Padawan bond.

But he couldn't say it out loud. Not yet.

_(Forgive me, Master. I'm sorry.)_

Obi-Wan sighed quietly, raising one hand to stroke Anakin's hair lightly.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Padawan."

End.

* * *

Ok. everyone who was happy that Qui-Gon was alive in the last chapter now officially hate me, right? LoL. But it _does_ say in the writeup that this is an Obi/Ani, right? So you had to know on _some level_ that this was going to happen!

Thank you for reading! Now all you have to do is click that little bluey button and review, review, review!

Xtine


	3. Anakin is 14 years old

The Beta (I **adore **you, Temple Mistress!) has cleared this chapter for posting (with extensive revisions, of course, lol) so I bring it to you for a little Friday treat! Please see individual review replies at the bottom of the chapter! Thank you again for all the extreme lovies sent to me - you're making this fic that much more loved in my heart (becase I really did not like it before posting, lol).

Once again, I have to put the boys through the wringer, lol. But... well, I would finish that sentence, but who wants to have plot spoilers?

Luvs!

X

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III – **Anakin is 14 years old**

"I really hate you sometimes," Anakin informed his Master angrily, storming into the room and flinging himself down on the couch in a huff.

"For _Sith's_ sake, Anakin, stop acting like such a child," Obi-Wan snapped, dropping his kitbag and pushing one hand though his hair.

"I _am_ a child," Anakin replied petulantly, crossing his arms and scowling, drawing his legs up onto the couch cushions. Obi-Wan, unfortunately, seemed completely impervious to his Padawan's glower, though Anakin was frowning so hard that his face hurt.

"Really?" Obi-Wan mused dryly, dropping into a chair in exhaustion, as though too tired to even bother fighting. "Earlier in the week, when you were more than ready to contradict me at every turn, you seemed to think you should be treated as an adult."

Anakin fumed as Obi-Wan stared at the ceiling for a moment before letting his eyes drift closed. As usual, his Master was _completely _missing the point – ignoring Anakin's argument completely to make a comment that wasn't even relevant.

'You never listen to me," he huffed, drawing himself up slightly so that he could make another show of flopping backwards onto the couch cushions.

"A common apperceived affliction in Padawans." Obi-Wan replied quietly, shooting him a sidelong look, his mouth curved into the ghost of a smile.

Anakin scowled at that, sensing that Obi-Wan was somehow making fun of him. He didn't like being made fun of, especially when it was _Obi-Wan_ doing it. Qui-Gon had _never_ teased him, not in a mean way, and the other Padawans had stopped after he got to know them. Obi-Wan was the only one who still made fun of Anakin; he had been doing it for _years_, and still wasn't tired of it. Qui-Gon had said once that if Anakin just ignored the people making fun of him, then they would stop eventually.

But Anakin couldn't very well ignore his _Master_, and Obi-Wan wasn't stopping. It wasn't fair at all. The worst part was that Obi-Wan was never _nice_ about his teasing – it was never a friendly joke, or something they could laugh about together. No, he always went out of his way to make Anakin feel like a stupid little kid. Like he was useless, or inferior.

And then Anakin would remember what Obi-Wan had screamed at him the night he had become Anakin's Master, and wonder if he really _was_ as useless as Obi-Wan thought him to be. If he really _was_ inferior to Obi-Wan.

He certainly wasn't as clever; Obi-Wan read all the time, and seemed irritated that Anakin preferred tinkering with droids to flipping though dusty old codices – Obi-Wan wouldn't even read holofiles, like the rest of the galaxy did. And he had started using bigger words when reprimanding Anakin, so that he could win the argument by vocabulary alone. Anakin couldn't very well fight back when he had _no farking clue_ what his Master had just said, after all. _'Apperceived affliction'_, Sith hell!

Their last mission together had started out so _well_ too. His Master had been _relaxed_ for a change, had smiled at Anakin and let him help out with the diplomacy. It wasn't _that_ big a deal that Anakin had gone podracing with the King's son – well, it _wouldn't_ have been that big a deal if Obi-Wan hadn't overreacted. How was Anakin supposed to know that the stupid Prince didn't know a podracer from a bantha's ass? How was _he_ supposed to know that beating the little snot in a race would result in such an uproar? It had ended up undoing almost all of his and Obi-Wan's work for the entire mission, and they had been required to stay an extra ten-day just to sort everything out.

Obi-Wan had not been pleased at _all_. Anakin didn't know when he had last seen his Master so angry. But to take it out on Anakin like _this?_ It was the Solstice! He even had found a present for Obi-Wan, in the hopes that it would make the Jedi Knight like him a little better, and would somehow make up for Anakin being a less-than-desirable Padawan.

If he had known that Obi-Wan would ignore the holiday all together, he would have just saved his credits. Not that _anything_ would make Obi-Wan like Anakin any better anyways. His Master hated him; there was no doubt about it.

Deciding to try once more – Obi-Wan _did_ seem a little happier now that they were home, after all, Anakin shifted on the couch slightly, studying his Master.

"I don't understand," he whined, hugging a pillow against his chest and staring owlishly at Obi-Wan. "_Why_ can't we celebrate the Solstice? I _said_ I was sorry about the sith-damned race!" Anakin pleaded, jiggling his knees impatiently. Obi-Wan was just so damn _prickly_ all the time.

"Padawan!" Obi-Wan snapped, and Anakin bit his lip. Obi-Wan didn't like it when Anakin swore, even though all the other Padawans did it as well.

"But I am sorry, Master!" Anakin pressed on, hoping that Obi-Wan would overlook his transgression for the moment.

"That's not the point, Anakin. The point is that you deliberately disobeyed me _again_," Obi-Wan growled, staring at Anakin intently. "I told you to forget about the races, no matter what Prince Karfan said to you. I gave you a direct order, Padawan, but you seemed to think yourself above my decisions. That is unacceptable."

Anakin automatically leaned backwards, pressing himself into the cushions as though they would swallow him up. He didn't like it when Obi-Wan was mad at him, but when his Master was _disappointed_ in him it felt even worse. The way those eyes seemed to darken slightly, seeing into Anakin's soul. It made Anakin sad. He desperately wanted Obi-Wan to like him, to be _proud_ of his Padawan. _That's_ why he had given into that little snot-nose Karfan's teasing: he had said that_ no_ Jedi could outrace a Nankarrian. It wasn't injured pride that had made Anakin accept that challenge; he had wanted to impress Obi-Wan with his skill as a racer. His Master had missed the Boonta Eve race; after all… he had just wanted to prove that he wasn't worthless.

Besides, that piece of bantha-poodoo had said some nasty things about Obi-Wan; he had deserved to have his royal face ploughed into the dust.

Not that Anakin could ever tell _Obi-Wan_ that. Not that his Master would believe him if he did. This was just ridiculous. Anakin had said he was sorry over and_ over_, but Obi-Wan just wouldn't _listen_ to him! He just kept repeating his lecture about how Anakin had to respect Obi-Wan's decisions, that _he_ was the Master and _Anakin_ was the Padawan – as if Anakin was able to forget _that_ for a single second.

It just wasn't fair. _Qui-Gon_ would have understood Anakin. Qui-Gon had _always_ listened to Anakin, heard out his opinions and included him in things. Obi-Wan just wanted to shut him out instead. It hurt, sometimes. Anakin knew that Obi-Wan had never wanted him, but couldn't he at least _pretend?_

Of course, bringing up Qui-Gon as an example of how Obi-Wan _should_ be acting was the quickest way Anakin knew of pissing off his Master. Obi-Wan's eyes would widen in hurt shock, his face paling, and then Anakin would be curtly ordered to his room to meditate. Obi-Wan had never struck Anakin again – not since Solstice Night two years ago. But every time Anakin mentioned Qui-Gon sarcastically, the look on Obi-Wan's face would make Anakin cringe inwardly, wondering just how far he could push before Obi-Wan lashed out at him again. So far, nothing of the sort had happened – Anakin had just spent a lot of time meditating. It was almost as bad as being hit, he sometimes thought, and it lasted a lot longer.

But that was definitely the button to push when he wanted to hurt Obi-Wan. He had found that out once after a fight.

His Master had been still been standing in the centre of the room, but with his hands loose at his sides as though he didn't know what to do with himself. After a moment – in which Anakin hadn't dared to breathe – Obi-Wan had grabbed a bottle from the liquor cabinet and sagged down onto the couch. He hadn't made a sound, and the room had been too dark to make out his facial expression. But when Obi-Wan had suddenly buried his face in his hands, Anakin had known that his Master was crying.

He had stopped bringing up Master Qui-Gon after that.

"But it's a tradition…" Anakin said quietly, hugging his pillow tightly.

"No, Padawan, it _was _a tradition. It was _your_ tradition, not mine. It was _never _mine!"

Seeing that Obi-Wan's hands were clenched into fists on his knees, Anakin gently set his pillow aside and shifter forward. Maybe this was his chance to bridge some of the gap between him and his Master. Tentatively, Anakin leaned forward to carefully touch Obi-Wan on the knee. "I know you miss Master Qui-Gon as well –"

"This isn't about that!" Obi-Wan exploded, pushing Anakin's hand away and standing abruptly, striding over to the window. Anakin turned on the couch, watching him silently. He could see Obi-Wan's reflection, shimmering over the scene of Coruscant's skyline. His Master's eyes were tightly shut, his mouth compressed in a tight line. "It's… it's… Anakin, we've never celebrated this before –"

Ah! An opening! "Only because we were on a mission to Bespin last year –" Anakin began eagerly.

"That's not the point!" Obi-Wan yelled, whirling to face him. Anakin froze immediately, bringing his hands up to shield himself reflexively. He had pushed too far; he should have left well enough alone. Obi-Wan didn't want to connect with Anakin, stupid, _useless_ Anakin. He sucked in a quick breath, wondering if Obi-Wan would hit him this time.

But Obi-Wan's anger faltered instantly as he stared in mute shock at his cringing Padawan.

"Anakin, I just…I-I'm sorry Anakin, I didn't…I…"

Gingerly relaxing, letting his arms fall back to his sides, Anakin hesitantly met Obi-Wan's eyes. He saw something in Obi-Wan's expression crumple, even though his outward appearance didn't change at all. It was in Obi-Wan's _eyes_ that the shift occurred. While they were bright green when Obi-Wan was tired or mad, the grey in them took over when his Master was upset. Anakin could see that they were as silvery as a mirror now, and as clouded as the Coruscanti sky behind him.

Anakin took a step forward, wanting to hug Obi-Wan, to tell him that it was ok, that he understood. But Obi-Wan instantly drew himself back up, shoulders rigid, arms tucked into the sleeves of his robe. Unapproachable once more.

"Anakin, don't…just…_don't._" Obi-Wan took a deep breath, taking a few moments to gather himself. "I'm not going to celebrate this ridiculous holiday. It's wasteful and unnecessary, and you're getting too old for such frivolity. If you're so intent on having a party, you can celebrate with the younglings in the Temple."

Anakin jerked back from that verbal slap, flinching slightly. "Fine," he snapped, hands clenching into fists as he stomped over to the hallway.

"You know," he added, spinning on one heel to face his silent Master. "I know that you never wanted me. I know that you resent me. But I just thought that for _one_ day this year, you could at least _act_ like you cared. Just for one _day_." He sniffled, glaring at Obi-Wan, who was still gazing straight ahead, refusing to look at Anakin. He saw Obi-Wan tremble slightly at Anakin's words, as though they were blaster bolts that had hit him instead.

"It wasn't about Qui-Gon, either, just so you know." Anakin added softly, feeling his lips tremble slightly. He fought to keep his voice even, digging his fingernails harder against the palms of his hands. "I miss him too, but… I wanted to get to know _you_ better. We… you and I never just _talk_. And I didn't need a present or anything… just to… I don't know." He gestured helplessly at the bare room, and then shook his head sharply, drawing his arms tightly across his chest. "Just forget it. I'll celebrate with the other _younglings_," Anakin spat the last injecting all the scorn he could summon up into that last word.

"Anakin, I –"

But Anakin didn't listen, retreating back into his room and locking it from the inside. Obi-Wan could still open it, of course, but they had an unspoken agreement that each would respect the other's right to be alone. Anakin hadn't wanted Obi-Wan as a Master, and Obi-Wan certainly hadn't wanted Anakin as a Padawan. Considering that mutual dislike, they deliberately were alone more often than not – physically together, but emotionally completely apart. Always, without exception.

Anakin had dared to hope that something would come of their relationship, after feeling that strong bond that had sparked between them. But Obi-Wan had blocked it off almost immediately, sealing away his mind and keeping Anakin locked out of his thoughts and emotions.

It hurt Anakin; that his Master wouldn't even allow the most rudimentary of training bonds to exist between them. He didn't want Anakin to be close to him, didn't want to _be_ close to anybody. He didn't try to understand how Anakin felt, and Anakin knew that Obi-Wan didn't _feel_ anything any more, not since Qui-Gon had died; he was the perfect Jedi, after all. Emotions were beneath him. Qui-Gon had probably just been a… '_regrettable lapse'_. That's how Obi-Wan would probably put it.

Anakin couldn't empathize with him even if he _wanted _to. And he didn't want to. He didn't care about Obi-Wan.

He didn't care at all.

Collapsing back onto his bed, Anakin stared moodily up at the ceiling, arms crossed behind his head. Distantly, he heard their front door open and close. Obi-Wan had gone out again. That was how their evenings ended more and more often in the past year; they would argue, Anakin would storm off to his room and Obi-Wan would leave. Anakin had never dared to follow him beyond the doors of the Temple, but he would always wait up to hear his Master come home. Sometimes Anakin heard someone else in the apartment with Obi-Wan, and he would curl up into a tight ball on his bed, hands clenched in impotent rage. He wasn't an idiot; he knew that Obi-Wan was fucking someone else, even though the… the _whore _was always gone the next day.

Anakin hated Obi-Wan for that, for betraying Qui-Gon's memory. Hated him for taking other lovers – though Anakin doubted that Obi-Wan was even _capable_ of love – to erase all traces of Qui-Gon from their apartments. But most of all, Anakin hated Obi-Wan for daring to bring his lovers back to their apartment, into the_ home_ that Anakin had shared with him and Qui-Gon. It didn't matter that his Master tried to be discrete – Obi-Wan was blocking Anakin out to screw around with someone else, and it _hurt. _It hurt because Obi-Wan was only supposed to care about Qui-Gon…Qui-Gon _and_ Anakin. Nobody else. Because somebody else would mean that Obi-Wan had never really loved Qui-Gon after all…and that the family that they had been was nothing but a lie.

But it was on those mornings, after Anakin mastered his anger enough to come out into the common room, that Obi-Wan seemed the saddest. He would spend the whole day meditating; at least he _said_ he was meditating, but Anakin didn't believe him. It seemed rather that he spent those days staring blankly at the holograph of him and Qui-Gon; the one taken on the day of Obi-Wan's knighting ceremony. His shields were always tighter than usual on those mornings however, so Anakin could barely sense his Master through the Force at _all_, much less figure out what he was thinking.

But his eyes were always sad.

Anakin had a holograph in his room as well. It had been taken five years ago, Anakin didn't remember who by. He was standing in the centre, smiling hugely at the camera. Kneeling on one side of him, a quiet smile on his leonine features, was Qui-Gon Jinn, one hand resting father-like on Anakin's shoulder. On his other side was Obi-Wan, fresh from his Knighting, looking decidedly uncomfortable, but putting on a vague smile for Qui-Gon's sake.

It was the only picture that Anakin still had of the three of them together. Obi-Wan had taken away the others, saying something about Jedi not needing possessions. But Anakin slept with it under his pillow, one hand clutched tightly at the frame, whispering his plea into the Force.

_(Please let him like me. Please. Please Qui-Gon; let him start to like me.) _

He didn't remember falling asleep, and had only a dim memory of hands gently pulling off his belt and overtunic, lifting his legs lightly to pull the blankets over him properly. There was a faint impression of someone stroking his hair, but Anakin was sure that it was just a dream, a memory of his life back on Tatooine. When there had been someone to care about what happened to him….

----

The room was dark when Anakin awoke with a start, momentarily disorienting him. He didn't know what it was that alerted him. Anakin lay still in his bed, hardly daring to breathe, listening hard.

_There!_ A scratching sort of sound, coupled with a muttered curse. Anakin slid from his bed noiselessly, palming open his door and slipping into the hallway. Across the way, Obi-Wan's door was wide open. In the intermittent light of the traffic passing outside the window, Anakin could see that the bed was undisturbed. The sight made him hesitate – what if his Master was in the other room with a lover? Anakin would never hear the end of it if he interrupted _that._ He would be meditating for a month or more.

"Fucking _Sith_!"

That was Obi-Wan's voice, followed by the sound of something falling over with a muffled thump.

Waving his hand to call up the lights, Anakin blinked sharply at the sight that met his eyes.

Obi-Wan stood frozen on one side of the room, eyes wide as he stared at Anakin. A _pinear_ tree lay on the floor, long blue-green needles scattered everywhere over the floor. His Master's cheeks flushed bright red as he glanced away, looking down at the ground in embarrassment.

"Master? What are you…?" Anakin began slowly, trying hard not to smile.

"I…I'm, ah…" Obi-Wan cast around for something to look at, eyes falling everywhere except for meeting Anakin's own. "I reconsidered about, ah…about the Solstice. Is this not right?" His voice sounded terribly uncertain as he turned his gaze back to the fallen tree.

"That's a pretty crappy tree, Master," Anakin answered, trying not to laugh. "The needles are all falling off, see?"

"I knew that the 'deal' I was offered was too good to be true…" Obi-Wan muttered, running one hand through his coppery hair.

"Let me help you with that," Anakin offered, narrowing his eyes and reaching into the Force.

Obi-Wan frowned half-heartedly as the tree rose elegantly from the floor, setting itself smoothly in its holder. "You know, Padawan, you really aren't supposed to use the Force for things like this…."

"I'm sorry, Master," Anakin grinned, eyes sparkling.

"If only I could believe that…."

"I just could tell that you needed some help. This is the first time _you've_ ever had to deal with setting up for the Solstice..." Anakin laughed quietly, "You know, Master Qui-Gon kept dropping the tree the first time we did it as well. He wanted everything to be perfect for when you came over –" he cut himself off abruptly, realising he had brought up Qui-Gon _again_. Obi-Wan was sure to be pissed about that; he went and did something for the Padawan he hated and….

Obi-Wan sat down on the couch, raising one hand as though to stem Anakin's morose thoughts. Without raising his eyes to Anakin's, he sighed quietly. "I don't _hate_ you Anakin, I…I never have."

Anakin trembled slightly. He hadn't said anything aloud… had Obi-Wan heard his thoughts again? Was he opening up their bond? Anakin caught his breath, hardly daring to hope. "Then… then why did you say that you did?"

Obi-Wan stared intently at his clasped hands, his voice as small and hurt as Anakin's own as he replied. "Because… because I was angry. Angry that… that _I _was never his 'Chosen One.' Because…" he laughed sadly, helplessly, "because I'm not very good at being a Master." his eyes flickered up to meet Anakin's briefly, before returning to study his hands.

"I-I know… that I'm not the Master that you want me to be. But I _am_ trying, Anakin."

Anakin bit his lip, feeling how forlorn and uncertain Obi-Wan was through the Force – ripples of emotion were echoing through the room, with his Master at their centre. Sitting down next to Obi-Wan, Anakin tentatively set one hand on his Master's shoulder – it was something he had seen Qui-Gon do to Obi-Wan before whenever the young Jedi was feeling doubtful or insecure. Obi-Wan tensed automatically at the touch, turning his head to stare at Anakin.

"I think you're doing all right," Anakin assured him, forcing a smile. "Master Qui-Gon would be proud."

A faint smile touched Obi-Wan's lips. Anakin could see the glow that his words had kindled in his Master – as bright as a Nubian dawn. It made Obi-Wan's stern features seem… softer somehow. It made him look younger.

"Just a second," Anakin said swiftly, rising from the couch and dashing back to his room, rummaging under his bed for the present. There hadn't been any time to wrap it, but Anakin hoped that didn't matter to Obi-Wan. He had a feeling it wouldn't.

Sliding back into the main room, Anakin proudly handed the framed holograph over. It had taken him forever to find one he really liked, but Master Windu had helped. It was a holo of Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon together, one that Master Windu claimed he had taken before either one of them had realized he was there. Anakin could believe it – he had never seen any other holos of his Master and Qui-Gon kissing. Obi-Wan's arms were thrown around the taller Jedi's neck, an expression of bliss on his face. As though there were no place in the galaxy he would rather be than secure in Qui-Gon's arms.

Anakin had hugged Master Windu for helping him find it – the stern Jedi Master had looked positively unnerved by that display of affection from one of his least-favourite Padawans.

But it was worth it, for the look on Obi-Wan's face. His Master opened his mouth as though to speak, but no words were forthcoming as he blinked rapidly. Anakin saw that his Master's hands were trembling on the frame, and impulsively, he snuggled closer to Obi-Wan's side.

Setting the holo reverently down on the small table, Obi-Wan turned to face Anakin fully. Anakin forgot to breathe for a moment; his Master's eyes were bright blue, clearer than the Temple pools and shiny with unshed tears. A delicate brush at his mind, and Anakin let his shields drop.

_Emotion_.

Anakin gasped as the hurt and love and gratitude and loneliness of his Master washed over his mind through the bond which flared like a beacon between them. After a moment, Anakin sent back his own tentative touch – love and worry and uncertainty. Had he done wrong to give Obi-Wan the picture, to remind his Master of everything that he had lost? Would Obi-Wan be upset with him again and close off the bond once more?

_(No Padawan. Never again.)_

With that silent promise, Obi-Wan suddenly pulled Anakin forward into a tight embrace. The force of it nearly drove the air out of Anakin's lungs, but he didn't care because it was his Master hugging him and Obi-Wan _did_ really like him after all, and Anakin didn't have to be alone anymore and –

_(Slow down, young one. You'll overwhelm me, thinking that loudly.)_ His Master's voice sounded wry in Anakin's head, but his tight embrace lessened somewhat, allowing Anakin to breathe again.

_(Sorry Master.) _But he wasn't really sorry. Not _really_. He was too happy to be sorry. Sighing in contentment, Anakin rested his head on Obi-Wan's shoulder and closed his eyes.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said quietly against Anakin's ear. "I regret that I don't have anything to give you in return…."

"Well…" Reluctantly, Anakin pulled away, making a show of thinking about it carefully. "You _could_ let me get a tattoo, you know…."

"I don't think so, Padawan." Obi-Wan responded with a faint smile.

"Come on! That whiny little prince had one, he showed me!" Anakin bounced up and down on the couch, shaking Obi-Wan's shoulder enthusiastically. "I could get a Delta-4, or… or… two crossed lightsabres! Or –"

"Anakin, that's hardly the point here. You're not a prince –"

"Like you need to tell _me_ that… OH! I could get '_My Master is a Sith Killer'_ in red and black letters, and –"

"Anakin, this is _not_ open to discussion!"

"Well, how about taking me to a bar?"

"You're _fourteen!_"

"I'll be fifteen soon! Come on, Master, don't be such an old fart!"

"I... I… _What_ did you just call me?"

Anakin didn't reply. The scandalized look on Obi-Wan's face, coupled with the fact that the austere Jedi Master still had _pinear_ needles tangled in his hair, was enough to send him into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

"What did I say? Anakin? Anakin! What are you laughing at? Padawan, what is it? Anakin!"

* * *

Of course, then we get shmexy Tattooed!Anakin in Clone Wars (pant pant, faint!) but that's hardly the point. 

To replying!

**KamquatBanana:** I hope that this continues to make you sniffle and all teary!

**Vee**: Sith girl, you know that I love you UBERMUCH! Thanks for such a loverly review (even after I had to shamelessly plug the chapter to you, hee hee.) I hope that the boy-crush came across even more in this chapter, as it is definitely moving towards some serious love. LOL. It was very painful for me to kill off Qui-Gon sooooo quickly, I have been on such an Obi/Qui kick of late, but I always find myself drawn back to the siren call of the OTP! Yay! I'm glad it caught you off guard, I was thinking that there were huge figurative neon signs pointing right to it, lol! They were indeed on the road to recovery... but I think they're much farther along in this chapter. Thanks for the stupendous review!

**inkhit**: One of the best chapters? (blushes) you obviously haven't read any of the people on my favourites list. LoL. Thank you very much for the compliment! I shall look into that book that you reccy'd to me - I haven't ever read it, and now I eagerly look forward to doing so! Thanks for the review!

**Pureevil:** Did this chapter answer your question? There are 8 chapters (at least) to this fic, so it has a ways to go yet. But all of them were written in the space of about two days, so they need extensive revision before I can post. Thanks for reading!

**TM**: I have nothing more to say than **I LOVE YOU! **And uberthanks for bringing this one up to snuff as well. HUGGLES!

**Monchy:** Twisted and Sithly though it may be, I'm glad that it hurt you when Qui-Gon died so suddenly. I always love to hear when something I've written carries an emotional impact. Especially when one of my verrrrrry favourite authors tells me as much! The contradictions are still very much there (as you saw), but I think that the two of them are well on their way to being able to tolerate - and eventually love - each other. Not to say that the angsty-queen doesn't have a few more roadblocks to throw into their path. Bwahaha. Glad that you're enjoying the story so far and thank you so much for the review! (I'm sorry that ff.n was being pissy about your posting it, and I appreciate your perseverence, lol!)

**xrai**: And with you as well! I'm glad that my little stories are the exception to the norm on slash-reading!

**Brynne!**: Yeah, it was pretty hard to write Obi-Wan losing it like that, because he's normally so in control of himself, you know? (One of the things that Anakin hates, of course, lol). But no one could keep all of that locked up inside, and well... I wanted to make an impact. I'm glad that I did! I think that Anakin is just as volotile as his Master - he just displays it better - and the quick shift in perspective was from him suddenly seeing that oh, wait a minute, Obi-Wan _is_ incredibly hurt as well. Silly Anakin. LoL. Catharsis, definitely... (but when Anakin grows up, there will be a rather _different _form of catharsis. heh.)

**alchemy dream: **Darling! Thank you for the great review! It was a lot of fun toying with this new dynamic - I've never before tried to write the relationship between Anakin and Obi-Wan with the shadow of Qui-Gon's death being so immediate over them. I'm glad that my 'illustration' came across so well -- for some reason, this was an intensely visual fic for me to write. It was, in fact, a single mental image that prompted me to start it (the one where Anakin sees Obi and Qui kissing in chapter 1). So I'm glad that my artist friend saw that aspect of it as well!. And I left them all happy again, you'll note! They keep getting closer and closer... far beyond my abilities as angstmeister to try and keep them apart! LOL.

**HarryEstel**: Well, I knew that for Obi-Wan and Anakin to end up together, Qui-Gon would have to go eventually. And sooner rather than later, so I could play with the relationship between Baby!Anakin and Angsty!Obi-Wan. But it hurt to write it as well... (sniffles). I love Qui-Gon too much!

**Phoenix:** You sobbed like a baby! (punches air in triumph) YES! Sorry. That was my Sithly side talking. I'm so glad that this came across as being very human, because I was wanting to explore that side of the Jedi. They're supposed to be so serene and centered and at peace... but they're still human (Well. Some of them.. (thinking of Yoda, Plo Koon, etc)). I did want to put Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon together at least for a while... and in a way, I think that made it both harder and easier for Obi-Wan to let him go. Harder, because he had something so good and precious in Qui's love... and easier, because he wasn't consumed with angst over the "ifs". He _knew_ Qui loved him at the time of his death... whether that added to his guilt or not, well... I'll leave that up to you guys!

**Alley: **I made you cry! Yay! (cough cough). It didn't cross your mind that he would die? But this _is_ an Obi/Ani -- says so in the blurb. LoL. I tease. Thank you for reading!

**Lea:** You wanted to smack Obi-Wan? Well... I can see that, actually. But for me, I think that Anakin deserved what he got - to say something so intensely hurtful to Obi-Wan immediately after he lost someone so precious to him. But that's just my point of view - if Anakin is old enough to scream 'fuck' etc, then he's old enough to pay for it. I know that not everybody would agree with me on that though... and this is why I dont deal with children, lol! (laughs). Thanks for reading!

**Aryll:** I hope you were crying in this chapter as well!


	4. Anakin is 17 years old

**A/N: As ever and always, I owe many thinks to my beta TM, who gave me the plot bunnies to take this from a 2-page chapter to an 8-pager with (gasp) an actual PLOT! Any mistakes remaining are all mine, however. **

**Usually I reply to everybody who reviews me, but I'm anxious to post this one in a hurry, sorry! So I'll address these to the UBERreviews I received, although I love you all! (hugs everybody). **

**Sarah: **I'm glad that you enjoyed chapter 3 so much! This one is probably more of a 'typical Xtine' chapter (lol) but I hope that it continues to please my Jedi sister! And we're beginning to get into the slashy themes here... I hope that it lives up to your assessment of my 'het' in the last few chapters.

**Monchy: **I'm glad that you like the way this is developing between the two of them! This next chapter is going to crank it up a notch in terms of their relationship, at least on one side. (Well, you'll see). But you're right; I didn't want to rush anything between them... I hope that this buildup will pay off for you readers though! (and I'm glad you liked Anakin hugging Mace! )

**Brynne: **I know, Qui would have been so upset with the way they had been acting for the past couple of years. But everything will be, if not perfect, then a lot smoother between the two of the boyos. As for the crush, I think this chapter will answer your question!

**Phoenix: **I would love to say that the hardest step is indeed over, but it's really just the first of many. The boys still have a long way to go before they're truely happy... but you can take my word that I'm going to have this one end happily.

**Wyndmir: **I love the ideas for the bumper stickers. Heh, I need to make one now. LOL. This chapter will have (I hope) a lot of emotion as well. Glad that you like it!

**Shadow Padawan**: I hope that this chapter starts to pay off on the developing emotions front! Glad that you like it!

**TM: **THANK YOU for the present plot-bunny. This chapter would have been far too short and unemotional and just overall blah without you to help me develop it. Thank you so much! I know that this was time for Super-Beta, and you came through magnificently. This chapter is entirely dedicated to you. Heck, this whole _story_ is for you. I hope that my additions and changes meet with your exacting standards... I probably should have run them by you, but I know that the last thing you want to do right now is more betaing, lol! And besides, I wanted to surprise you! Hope that my gamble paid off. LOVES AND HUGGLES and YAY!

**_Happy Early Valentine's Day, Everybody!_**

**

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**IV – Anakin is 17 years old**

_"I'm… I'm really sorry mom." Anakin hated that his voice trembled and cracked as he spoke. "I-I know that you were looking forward to it too. Yes. I know. I'm sorry… but… but I have to stay here, mom. It's important. Yes. Yes. I love you too mom. Take care for my sake, all right? Love you._

"_Goodbye."_

----

It was the morning of the Solstice. Anakin had lain in bed for a long time, staring up at the ceiling as dawn's light had slowly lightened the room from cold blue, through rosy pink, to the current brilliant white. Rolling over onto his side listlessly, Anakin squinted his eyes against the intense light, before reluctantly pushing himself out of bed.

Padding into the hallway, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes, Anakin cracked the door of his Master's room open and peered inside. He smiled tightly at the sight that met his eyes, leaning heavily against the doorframe. He hadn't wanted to leave last night, had been forced into his own room by Master Luminara. It had been a pointless exercise; Anakin hadn't been able to sleep a wink anyways. Staying in his Master's room would have at least given him some peace of mind.

But Obi-Wan was still sleeping, curled up tightly under a thin white sheet that gleamed in the morning light. It made him look like a Force-vision, soft waves of coppery hair and tanned skin glowing from the sun's rays.

Anakin sighed, running one hand through his bristly Padawan hair. Master Luminara had said that the sedative she had given Obi-Wan would wear off sometime today, and that Anakin could stop worrying because _'Obi-Wan would be perfectly fine'_. And if not _perfectly fine_, then at least he was alive. Luminara seemed to think that ought to be good enough for Anakin.

But it wasn't. It didn't take the edge off of his anxiety at all. Nothing would, not until Obi-Wan was awake and back to his old sarcastic self. Until those blue-grey eyes regarded him with exasperation once more, until that cultured voice was reprimanding him for being careless yet again, Anakin wouldn't be content.

Slipping silently into the room, Anakin perched carefully on the edge of his Master's bed. Obi-Wan had rolled over onto his side, strands of hair falling over his closed eyes. Anakin gently brushed the pieces away, smoothing them back off Obi-Wan's face. A slight frown marred Anakin's features as his fingers drifted lower, to the bacta-soaked bandages that were tightly wound around Obi-Wan's waist.

_The mission had gone as well as could be expected – which meant terribly, of course. The city had fallen; the royal family was dead, with the exception of King Karfan, who would be doing a service to the galaxy if he died. The bratty little snot of a prince had grown up to be a dangerously arrogant tyrant of a king. And Anakin was willing to bet that the bastard still didn't know a podracer from his own ass. _

_Considering their prior mission history on the planet, Anakin and Obi-Wan had been dispatched as the Jedi chosen to restore order to the rioting cities. But it was to no avail. They had endured two long weeks of fruitless negotiation, arguing with a tyrant who condoned genocide. Two long, terrible weeks before Obi-Wan had finally given the order for them to pull out. _

_Anakin felt the warning in the Force, an insistent tug at the back of his mind as their clone troops exchanged fire with the rebel factions and the remnants of the royal forces. Anakin ignored the feeling; he had been feeling ripples in the Force from the moment they had come back to this Sith-cursed planet. _

_He pushed the sensation aside, concentrating instead on deflecting blasterfire, to protect his troopers as they hurried back to the beleaguered ship. _

_He staggered at a flare of pain in his mind. Shock, agony, intense, overwhelming; Anakin turned in time to see Obi-Wan crumple to the ground. Their eyes met for a second, Obi-Wan's tight with pain as he fell, one hand splayed out as though to snatch at Anakin's cloak. _

_Everything slowed. The storm of blasterfire, the screams of the wounded and the dying, the concussion of missiles impacting around them all fell silent. A hand clutched at his shoulder, and Anakin turned slowly to see Commander Cody. The clone was yelling something; Anakin could see his lips moving, but heard no sound. _

(Anakin…)

_Obi-Wan's voice in his mind made Anakin whirl. A peculiar numbness suffused his body as he saw his Master struggle to rise, before collapsing again into the clinging mud. _

(Ana….)

_The rebels were getting closer, struggling up the incline to where Obi-Wan lay prone. Cody was dragging Anakin backwards, tugging him towards the ship, yelling something in his ear. _

_'Too late… let him go… too late….'_

_No. No. _NO!

_Anakin didn't know if he was screaming aloud, or if it was just the sound of his heart being torn in two. He didn't remember throwing Cody aside, didn't remember tearing back down the slope, or bringing his lightsabre into play. He barely registered fighting, didn't notice or care about the bodies he sent flying to gasp their last into the thick mud. His ears heard nothing but the soft whimper of pain from his Master as Anakin tugged Obi-Wan's limp body into his arms. _

_Obi-Wan's eyes fluttered open for a second, silvery with pain and piercing Anakin's heart. Anakin felt the frantic pulse of his heart slamming in his ears, felt the blaster wound in Obi-Wan's lower back that had crippled his Master, and heard each ragged breath that the older Jedi took. Each one slower, fainter…._

(Ana….Anakin….)

_Obi-Wan's eyes drifted shut. _

_Time stopped. _

_Anakin suddenly found himself on the floor of the cruiser, holding Obi-Wan's unconscious body in his arms, rocking back and forth and sobbing like a youngling, his face buried in his Master's blood- and mud-soaked hair. _

(Don't die. Please don't die. I'm sorry, Obi-Wan, I'm sorry, don't die on me…)

_Anakin didn't realize he had gone into a healing-trance until a hand on his shoulder brought him back to himself with a gasp. Anakin realized that he was shivering violently, freezing even though the atmosphere of the planet was clinging and humid. He had poured too much of his life Force into Obi-Wan, synchronizing their heartbeats and their breathing, trying desperately to keep his Master alive. Wrapping his thoughts around Obi-Wan's own, cementing them together, until they were completely intertwined. Until, if Obi-Wan died, he would take Anakin with him. _

_Pulling back from such an intimate connection made Anakin dizzy, made his heart ache as though something important had been snatched away from him. He whimpered in protest as Barriss gently pulled Obi-Wan from his arms. He was suddenly seized with panic, as though letting Obi-Wan out of his sight for a second would mean his Master's death. Staggering to his feet, Anakin stumbled into the makeshift infirmary on the small craft, and took up vigil at his Master's side where he belonged. _

That had been three days ago. Anakin's dangerous and untrained Force-healing – for which Master Luminara had ranted and yelled herself hoarse, citing him as eight kinds of a Sith-addled idiot – along with Barriss' emergency first aid, had superficially healed the wound. It had staunched the bleeding at least, well enough for the trip back to Coruscant where the Temple Healers could do a proper job on it. However, such makeshift measures meant that the angry wound would never heal cleanly. The bones in Obi-Wan's shattered spine had knit well enough, but Luminara had warned Anakin that it would always be more fragile than before. And it meant that he would carry a scar there for the rest of his life; a painful reminder to Anakin that he had failed to guard his Master's back.

Anakin carried a scar as well, one that wasn't visible to the naked eye. It was over his heart, throbbing in recrimination for his Master's injury. Anakin's mother had always told him to protect those that he loved with all his strength. He had failed. The one man that he loved and cherished above all others had fallen. And it was _all his fault. _He should have anticipated the retaliation as the Jedi tried to leave the planet; he should have heeded the warning in the Force instead of dismissing it out of hand.

It was another lesson in humility – a trait that Obi-Wan constantly tried to impress upon him. But this time, the lesson had come at too high a price. Qui-Gon had always told Anakin how imperative it was to pay heed to the living Force. _Why_ hadn't he listened to that? _Why _had Obi-Wan been the one to bear the consequences of his Padawan's arrogance?

_He_ should have been the one to fall. Not Obi-Wan. Never Obi-Wan.

A drop of water splashed on the back of his hand, and Anakin realized dimly that he was crying. He couldn't help it; every time he looked at Obi-Wan, so pale and weak and still in the too-large bed, it made Anakin realize what a failure he had been as a Padawan. He was supposed to protect the ones he loved, they were supposed to work as a team. They were supposed to be _the_ team, together without fail. Forever. Because Obi-Wan had always been there for Anakin, and Anakin was supposed to always be there for Obi-Wan. That was the way it worked. That was the way it was _supposed_ to work, at least. A proper Padawan would have waited, would have made sure that his Master was all right.

But no, Anakin had run ahead with Cody and the other clones, his long legs carrying him faster than Obi-Wan could move.

To Anakin, Obi-Wan had always seemed more than just a man, more than just a Jedi. He was so graceful, so powerful and serene that the longer he was Anakin's Master, the more perfect he seemed. As though he was more than mortal.

Anakin didn't like being reminded that his idolized Master was only human after all. It made his heart lurch sickeningly, reminding him that it was possible for Obi-Wan to be hurt… for him to die.

_No._ Anakin refused to let that happen. He wouldn't let Obi-Wan die the way Master Qui-Gon had. He wouldn't allow it. Not for any noble, altruistic reasons. Anakin was selfish. He didn't want Obi-Wan to die because Anakin didn't want to be left alone. Obi-Wan had been so completely devastated after Qui-Gon's death… but he had Anakin with him. And although that hadn't been nearly enough to compensate for his Master's loss, at least Obi-Wan had had _someone_ to care about him.

Obi-Wan was the only one who cared about Anakin. So… if _Obi-Wan_ died… then Anakin would be left all alone. Mace would have him kicked out of the Order, because no one else would want to take on such a headstrong Padawan.

"I'm sorry," Anakin whispered quietly, scrubbing away the tears with the back of his hand, clenching the other against the white sheets of the bed to stop its trembling. _Sorry._ It was such a meaningless word, and far too late to say it. Sorry. Sorry wouldn't erase the scar from Obi-Wan's back, it wouldn't heal his spine properly or keep him from the intensive physiotherapy that he was going to require in order to fully recover.

Saying sorry wouldn't make him forgive Anakin. Nothing he could do would make Obi-Wan forgive him for this failure. He would be set aside, would be replaced or sent back to Tatooine….

Anakin shook his head, dismissing that last thought. Rationally, he knew that Obi-Wan wouldn't send him away, not after so many years together. The tension and anguish that had festered between them after Qui-Gon's death had eased, replaced by a comfortable camaraderie. They were like father and son, like brothers….

Well, Anakin knew that _Obi-Wan _thought about their relationship in those terms at least. And he was content to let the older Jedi Knight think that way, no matter what Anakin's personal feelings were. He had kept them hidden for almost three years now, after all.

With one more soft caress to the errant strands auburn hair, Anakin straightened up and gently tugged a blanket up over Obi-Wan's sleeping form. His Master had a bad habit of kicking the things off when asleep, letting the blankets get all twisted up at the foot of the bed. Anakin teased him mercilessly about it, this quirk that was so at odds with Obi-Wan's otherwise serene and unflappable demeanour.

Anakin had been terrified when he had gone to visit Obi-Wan in the Healer's ward, not just because his Master looked frighteningly pale, with dark purple bruises framing his closed eyes, but because he was so _still_. Obi-Wan had been lying on his back – securely bandaged against further injury – his hands lightly resting on top of the undisturbed bedclothes. The Obi-Wan that Anakin knew always curled up on his side in a tight ball, just _begging_ for someone to spoon up behind him….

Anakin cut that train of thought off quickly; busying himself with smoothing out a nonexistent wrinkle in the blanket lovingly spread over his Master's sleeping form. But he couldn't deny himself a gentle kiss pressed against Obi-Wan's temple, lips gently caressing porcelain skin, breathing deeply to inhale the pleasantly masculine scent of his Master's hair.

It was a stolen kiss, the only type he was ever likely to get from Obi-Wan. He had seen how Obi-Wan and Master Qui-Gon had been together, had felt their love burning through the Force. He had felt first-hand the after-effects of Qui-Gon's death, and saw the way that Obi-Wan still looked unbearably sad whenever the older Jedi's name was mentioned. The holograph that Anakin had given Obi-Wan as a Solstice present three years ago was carried with the Jedi Knight wherever they went. When tired or frustrated, Obi-Wan would dig it out of his kitbag and stare at it for a long time in silence, as though remembering.

It happened more and more frequently with the onset of the Solstice Night – that had been Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon's holiday, after all. Even though Obi-Wan would put on a smiling face for the night's festivities, Anakin could see through the façade to his Master's melancholy. He missed Qui-Gon still, he always would. And Anakin knew that Obi-Wan would spend the night curled up in the bed he had once shared with the older Jedi Master, holding the holograph close to his heart.

At first Anakin had been pleased that his Master loved the gift he had found so much. But as time went on, Anakin's heart had begun to constrict painfully every time Obi-Wan glanced reflectively at the picture, an inscrutable expression marring his passive features. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had shared something special, something Anakin longed for desperately but knew he would never find. He loved Obi-Wan Kenobi, deeply, passionately, intensely, even though he knew that his Master's true love had died years ago.

He knew better than to hope that Obi-Wan would ever look at him in that way.

These kisses, taken without permission while Obi-Wan slept, would suffice. They would have to – they were all Anakin had. Even if the illicit moments did nothing more than torment him with the taste of everything that he could never have, they were still precious. He could close his eyes for a moment, feeling the silken touch of Obi-Wan's skin, breathing in his enticing scent and he could pretend for an instant that Obi-Wan loved him back. That the yearning gaze he reserved for pictures of Qui-Gon was for Anakin instead – full of desire and need. Even if those kisses, those imaginings weren't given willingly, it was still the best Solstice present Anakin could hope for. Someday, he would work up the courage to ask Obi-Wan for a real kiss. Until then, this would be enough.

It would have to be enough. Anakin knew he was too young, too immature, and too impulsive for Obi-Wan to ever look at Anakin with desire. He was too _not-Qui-Gon-Jinn_. No, Obi-Wan would only ever see him as a little boy, as a grudgingly-accepted Padawan. Nothing more.

One day… Anakin would ask his Master for a kiss, even though he knew what the answer would be already. Someday, he would be brave enough for that.

Reluctantly tearing himself away, Anakin slowly rose once more from the bed. Behind him, Obi-Wan muttered a sleepy protest, curling forward farther into the warm depression Anakin left behind. Smiling, Anakin turned to the closet to get another blanket for his Master – Luminara had left him strict instructions to make sure Obi-Wan was kept warm. It was a hard thing to do when the man was intent on kicking away every blanket. Stretching up slightly on his toes, Anakin tugged down a deep green blanket from the top shelf of the closet.

The movement dislodged something else from the top shelf – an envelope the colour of _pinear_ trees – green and blue and silver all mixed together. Automatically, Anakin snatched it out of the air before it could flutter to the ground, frowning slightly at the shelf from whence it had fallen. It was rare that they used the blankets stored in there – generally only if the heating in the Temple ceased functioning, which was almost never. So what….?

Turning the envelope over, Anakin saw his own name, inscribed in black ink and flowing in Obi-Wan's perfect calligraphy. It was his Solstice present, apparently. Anakin grinned, making a mental note to _always_ check this closet when searching for his presents.

Curbing his enthusiasm with some difficulty, Anakin gripped the envelope lightly in his teeth. That freed his hands to lightly spread the thick green blanket over his sleeping Master. But then unable to wait any longer, Anakin sat down carefully on the other side of the bed to tear the green paper open.

Inside there was a note, along with another folded piece of paper. Frowning in confusion, Anakin gently slid the note from its verdant prison and began to read. Again, it was written in Obi-Wan's precise and elegant hand, and Anakin knew that he would probably end up keeping this small message, like he had all the others, in a small box under his bed. Not the most imaginative of hiding spaces, but Anakin trusted Obi-Wan not to invade his privacy.

_Anakin;_

_It gets harder and harder for me to decide what to get for you on Solstice Night as you get older. Long gone are the days when I could just bring you home a broken droid to see your face light up in delight, and I know better than to think you would want _me_ to accompany you to a bar any longer. I also have realized too late that it isn't wise to just give you credits like last year – I know that you got a tattoo Anakin, but I don't want to know what or where it is; I have enough grey hairs as it is. _

Anakin smirked slightly at that, feeling a faint blush tinge his cheeks. He hadn't known that Obi-Wan _knew_ about his Solstice present to himself, but in hindsight, he really should have figured it out. His Master always had been perceptive. Anakin was just grateful that he hadn't demanded to see what it was – it would have been painfully awkward to explain why he had chosen to get an ornate OB1 written low on his left hip, after all…. Subconsciously pressing his hand to the tattoo, Anakin smiled to himself and continued to read:

_You have been a wonderful apprentice Anakin, proving to me more and more every day that you will far surpass me as a Jedi Knight. I know that our missions have not been easy – even more difficult for you, my perfect Padawan, to put up with a less-than-perfect Master. The best present I could think of for you as a result was some time away from me, which I am sure will thrill you to no end._

Anakin's heart lurched strangely at the words, a combination of pride and pain. Pride that Obi-Wan thought he was the perfect Padawan, even in face of all of Anakin's obvious shortcomings. And pain because he knew that his Master's view of him, so drastically mistaken, couldn't possibly endure. Not when Anakin had failed so badly on this last mission. Not when that failure had lead to Obi-Wan being wounded.

Anakin suppressed a quietly desperate laugh, pressing one hand over his eyes. Obi-Wan thought that Anakin would be _glad_ to leave his Master behind? No, it was _Obi-Wan_ who would be happy to get away from Anakin, not the other way around.

Hugging his free arm tightly across his chest and stealing a glance at Obi-Wan, Anakin sighed softly and read to the end of the letter.

_I hope you enjoy your vacation Anakin, even if you're only a spectator this time rather than a participant. _

_Obi-Wan._

Anakin raised one eyebrow, a small smile beginning to tug at his lips. Well _that_ was cryptic, in true Obi-Wan Kenobi form. Impatient now, Anakin tugged the other folded piece of paper from the envelope, starting in surprise when two smaller pieces tumbled from inside the folds onto his lap. Picking up the pieces, Anakin's eyes widened in shock as he scanned the tickets.

_No way. No way in Sith hell had Obi-Wan…._

Quickly opening the folded paper with trembling fingers, Anakin scanned the lines swiftly, his heart pounding. Anakin Skywalker… Padawan to Knight Kenobi, etc, etc…blah blah blah… granted Temple leave from the 26th day of Twelfth Month until the 3rd day of First Month….

_Fucking Sith! _

Anakin let the paper fall from his nerveless fingers, pushing one shaking hand through his hair as he laughed in shock and amazement and utter delight. He knew that he was grinning like an inebriated nexu, and was momentarily glad that Obi-Wan was still asleep so that he couldn't see his Padawan's ridiculously gleeful expression.

For the Solstice, Anakin had intended to drag Obi-Wan to one of Coruscant's animal shelters so they could adopt a kitten or something. Anakin knew that Obi-Wan loved felines – after all, the Jedi Knight was almost feline himself in his elegant grace and regal bearing – while Anakin hated the creatures. It was to be his present to Obi-Wan, a truce on the frequently-debated subject.

But _Obi-Wan…._Obi-Wan had bought him two tickets to the Boonta Eve Classic on Tatooine. The most prestigious, most attended, and most publicized pod-racing event in the entire galaxy. The race that Anakin had won eight years ago when he had been no more than a child. The tickets were notoriously hard to obtain without having some inroads with the Hutts who ran the event. And even should one be able to find tickets for sale, they would cost far more than a Knight's meagre stipend for an entire Twelvemonth cycle. But on top of that, another paper attached to the leave papers indicated that Anakin's entire voyage to and from Tatooine was already paid for.

How in the Force had Obi-Wan been able to _afford_ all of this? Not to mention the amount of arguing he must have been obliged to do to get Mace to let Anakin out of the Temple for that long.

There was more writing on the back of the leave papers. Anakin turned it over and smiled tremulously at the simple message: _Say hello to your mother for me, _along with a scrawled comlink number.

That's who the second ticket was for.

Anakin felt his heart pound in his ears, tears pricking his eyes as he clutched the leave papers tightly against his chest. _Mom_. He would be able to see her again. Sith hell, had it already been eight years? He missed her still, he always would. And Obi-Wan had known that, had seen it and saved his paltry few credits to give his Padawan the best Solstice present possible….

A cold lump formed in Anakin's stomach as he slowly lowered the papers. _The best Solstice present possible. _Of course, it was a present for the 25th day of Twelfth Month. Ideally, Anakin would have left the day after the Solstice, having spent the day with his Master.

But now….

Anakin twisted on the bed to stare at Obi-Wan's prone body, looking small and crumpled under the mountains of blankets that covered his still form.

And he knew that it wasn't possible.

No matter how much he missed his mother, Obi-Wan had been his family and his friend for the past eight years. And Obi-Wan needed him, just as much as Anakin needed Obi-Wan. There was no way he could leave Obi-Wan here like this, alone and wounded, on the Solstice.

What had Qui-Gon told Anakin about the holiday? _'The point of the Solstice is being together, Anakin… spending time with loved ones.' _There was no one in the entire galaxy that Anakin loved more than Obi-Wan Kenobi. And in the end, it wasn't that hard of a choice to make.

Regretfully folding the tickets and travel papers back into the green envelope, Anakin rose to place it back on the closet shelf. He would never abandon his Master; he loved Obi-Wan too much for that. Fighting back the tears in his eyes, Anakin leaned over the quietly sleeping figure and pressed another trembling kiss on Obi-Wan's cheek.

He wouldn't leave Obi-Wan's side. Not for an instant, not until his Master was fully recovered. No matter how long it took.

"Happy Solstice, Master," Anakin whispered softly, brushing his fingers through Obi-Wan's auburn hair lovingly. He would need to contact his mother on the comlink, from the number Obi-Wan had provided. No doubt his Master had already warned her that Anakin was coming… Sith, but he hated to let her down. Anakin had always hated to see her upset. He wouldn't do it for many people. Sith, he wouldn't do it for _anyone_ aside from Obi-Wan. Anakin didn't even need to consider it; there was no question in his mind that he had made the right decision.

Anakin traced his fingers along the Jedi Knight's jaw, feeling his heart pulse painfully with love and sadness and longing. He would do_ anything_ for Obi-Wan.

Rising from the bed, reluctant to break even that tenuous contact with his Master, Anakin paused in the doorway. With a small, tight smile, he reached up to touch the branch of _pinear_ that he had hung there (pilfered from the enormous tree in the Temple's Entrance Hall). The needles shone a faint bluey-green, but the muted sunlight coming in through the window made them appear almost grey.

Anakin smiled faintly. It was just like the colour of Obi-Wan's eyes. Glancing back at his silent Master, still curled up in sleep, Anakin quietly left the room.

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As ever, reviews are shamelessly begged for. Hope you all enjoyed the chapter!

XtP


	5. Anakin is 20 & 21 years old

**I would have liked to thank each and every person who reviewed this fic the last time around here, but alas I'm on a time crunch to get to class for a French test (ick). And after that I'm on _vacation! _So there's not enough time. But you know who you are, and you know that I love you for reviewing!**

**TM-- again, this chapter would have been crap without your help, crossed wires and all! Thank you!**

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**V – Anakin is 20 years old.**

"Where _is_ he?" Anakin repeated to himself again, pacing around the common room of the apartments he shared with Obi-Wan, and shooting frequent glares at the door as though it was somehow to blame for his Master's absence. It was the night of the Solstice, and Obi-Wan was very late in returning home.

Anakin bit his lip, right hand rising to try to tug on his Padawan braid, only to be met with empty air. He was no longer an apprentice after all, but a full Knight. He would remind himself sternly of that fact every few minutes, trying to shock himself into some semblance of calm, forcing himself to sit still on the couch.

_Breathe. Just breathe. He'll be back soon. Don't panic. There is no passion, there is only serenity…_he growled in frustration, rubbing his temples with the tips of his fingers as the familiar words failed to soothe him at all.

It was no use; after a couple of tense moments, he would find himself pacing once again, hand grasping in vain for a braid that was no longer there. Windu had already run off to hide in Obi-Wan's bedroom, yowling his displeasure with an irritated flick of his black-furred tail. Anakin paused in the centre of the small common room, glancing back towards his Master's bedroom. The damn animal was probably hiding under Obi-Wan's bed again. He and Anakin didn't exactly get along.

Stupid cat.

Anakin growled low in his throat as he caught himself reaching for his Padawan braid once again. Force, he could still _feel_ it, would keep turning his head sharply to try to catch a glimpse of the elusive plait. It seemed almost ominous, that he couldn't adapt to its absence.

It had been a bad idea to go through with the Knighting Ceremony right away; Anakin realized that now. But upon his return from Praesitlyn, Master Yoda had surprised Anakin by offering to perform the ceremony. Flushed with the exuberance of victory and still on an adrenaline high from what had been a hard-fought battle, Anakin had agreed readily.

No matter that Obi-Wan was off on the other side of the galaxy, no matter that Anakin should have been able to wait for the one person in his life who _truly_ mattered. He hadn't gone to Praesitlyn expecting to be Knighted upon his return: it was an unexpected, euphoric moment. A moment where, in a flash, he had a vision of himself, welcoming Obi-Wan home as a full Knight. As an equal… as something more than the little boy who had been thrust unceremoniously into the Jedi Knight's care eight years ago.

As someone of whom Obi-Wan could be truly proud.

He had thought that it wouldn't matter if Obi-Wan wasn't there for the ceremony. He hadn't known how much the ceremony would mean, how much of a change it would make in his life.

He hadn't thought it would matter.

But it had. And Anakin hadn't realized it until it was too late, until he was kneeling with tears in his eyes as the Jedi Grandmasters saluted him solemnly. Even as they honoured him for his achievements, for his service to the Jedi Order, all Anakin had been able to think of was what was missing. On what was supposed to be the best day of his life to that point, the only thing he could think about was who was _missing_. Even as the Force sang through his soul, his heart and mind were questing along his training bond, seeking out his Master's presence.

Because it _had_ mattered that Obi-Wan hadn't been present to mark his Padawan's official ascent into Knighthood. It _had_ mattered that Yoda had been the one to sever Anakin's braid rather than his proper Master. Too late had Anakin realised that he wanted that affirmation; _needed_ it. To see the smile, if not on his Master's lips, then in his eyes. Eyes that would shine as blue and intense as the beam of his sabre. Shining with pride for Anakin.

It _had_ made a difference.

Only after that long plait of hair had been handed reverently back to him did Anakin realize that it might make a difference to Obi-Wan as well.

Mace Windu had always taken care to point out that Anakin was a thoughtless fool, incapable of being sensitive to the needs of those around him. Leaving the Council Chambers behind for the first time as a full Knight in the Order, Anakin had finally accepted that Master Windu was right.

Properly ashamed of his own impatience, Anakin had asked Yoda not to inform Obi-Wan of his Knighting; it was something that he wanted to tell his Master himself.

He still wasn't sure how Obi-Wan would react.

"Where_ is_ he?" Anakin sighed aloud, gripping the back of the couch tightly to stop his hands from trembling, slowly leaning forward until his forehead rested on the back of his palms. _Haja_, he was shaking like mad. Obi-Wan was punctual to a fault, he always had been. It was something that drove Anakin crazy, just as Obi-Wan was constantly irritated by his apprentice's lackadaisical attitude towards deadlines and arranged meeting times. For Obi-Wan to be late was worrisome.

For him to be late _today_ was frankly terrifying.

He had only been late coming home on the Solstice Eve once that Anakin could remember… and that had been the night that he had become Anakin's Master. The night Anakin had found out that Qui-Gon was dead.

"Fucking Sith hell," Anakin cursed under his breath, digging his fingers tighter into the fabric of the cushions, feeling a faint prickle of tears in his eyes. He was twenty standard years old, for stars' sake, far too old to be acting like a superstitious youngling. He was a Knight now, not a green Padawan.

Yes, he _was_ a Knight now.

Hence the other reason for his nervousness. This was their night, the one evening where they were just Anakin and Obi-Wan, not Padawan Skywalker and Master Kenobi. Whatever they were doing, wherever they were, Anakin always spent this day with his Master. Much as it scared him that Obi-Wan was delayed in arriving back at the Temple, he was far more concerned about what would happen _after_ Obi-Wan got back.

More appropriately, after Anakin finally told Obi-Wan what he had been hiding for the past four years.

_I love you._

Obi-Wan would understand the significance; after all, it had been on the Solstice that his Master had finally told Qui-Gon how he felt. If nothing else, telling Obi-Wan on this night of all nights would convince the Jedi Master of Anakin's sincerity. That was why Anakin had waited for his Knighthood; he didn't want Obi-Wan to dismiss him out of hand, as a star-struck Padawan with a childish infatuation. He wasn't a youngling anymore, even if Obi-Wan was the last person in the galaxy who would be willing to see it.

Anakin had spent the day preparing for being rejected. As they were friends, Obi-Wan would let him down gently, but Anakin had still tried to harden his heart to be ready for the blow. Anakin dreaded seeing amusement – or worse, _compassion_ – in those bewitching eyes, but he couldn't pretend any longer. He had to know.

Even though he already knew the answer.

Obi-Wan loved Qui-Gon. He _still_ loved Qui-Gon. Anakin saw it every single day, had seen it _every single day_ for the past eight years, enough to know that he would _never_ ever be able to win, no matter how long Qui-Gon had been dead.

He hated that sometimes, resented Qui-Gon for leaving him in this position. If the Jedi Master had lived, then he and Obi-Wan would still be together and in love. Anakin would have been Qui-Gon's Padawan, and he would never have fallen in love with Obi-Wan. His life would have been so much easier.

So much _emptier_….

Anakin blinked sharply, straightening up to push one hand through his bristly Padawan hair. Gazing listlessly around the empty apartment, his eyes fell on the end table, the new home of Anakin's holograph of himself with Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon. Striding over, Anakin slammed the small picture face-down on the wooden surface. He didn't need the older Jedi watching him. Not tonight.

Obi-Wan had always been the epitome of devotion, both to his former Master and love as well as to his Padawan. He hadn't been celibate for the past eight years, but Anakin was old enough now to understand the difference between love and sex. Enough to know that he was caught in an uncertain middle ground – Obi-Wan cared too much about Anakin to allow them even a purely physical relationship, but he would never truly _love_ Anakin.

But a seed of hope was still trying to sprout in his heart, growing a little stronger, a little bolder, with each fond smile that Obi-Wan sent his way, with each companionable pat on the arm. The way that the holograph that Anakin had given his Master so many years ago was relegated to Obi-Wan's dresser now, rather than underneath his pillow. The way that the Solstice had become _their _holiday, rather than a morose echo of the past. The way he would sometimes catch Obi-Wan looking at him in an unguarded moment. Pure fantasy of course, but hope would thrive on the smallest, most paltry scraps of chance.

The only way to smother those hopes completely would be to be told _'I don't feel the same way'_ point blank.

Anakin had spent the morning readying himself for that, had spent the afternoon packing up his meagre assortment of belongings so that he could leave immediately afterwards without an awkward scene between them. Now that he was a Knight, he was permitted to do that. He could leave, could break up the team of Kenobi and Skywalker, the Negotiator and the Hero with No Fear.

And then the only reminder he would have would be the tattooed initials low on his hip. Anakin pressed his hand absently against the spot, swallowing heavily as he closed his eyes.

He could leave Obi-Wan behind. Something that he was scared _shitless_ about doing. Obi-Wan was the reason he was a Jedi, the only reason that Anakin had ever survived to _see_ his Knighting. He didn't _want_ to leave.

He knew he might not have a choice.

Anakin had spent the evening pacing, driving himself crazy with worry, rehearsing what he wanted to say, and waiting anxiously for Obi-Wan to arrive.

As if on cue, there was a flicker in Anakin's mind, a comforting warmth that suffused his entire body. Obi-Wan was back in the Temple.

Anakin instantly felt his heart rate speed up frantically, pounding as though it would leap right out of his chest. Immediately, he tried to school his mind away from his overbearing anxiety, hoping that Obi-Wan wouldn't sense his thoughts before he had the chance to voice them. Feeling the presence of his Master approaching their rooms, Anakin straightened up, tugging at his robes to erase non-existent wrinkles: anything to occupy his mind and his hands.

He glanced up sharply as the door hissed open and Obi-Wan strode wearily into the room. Anakin's heart skipped a beat at the sight, his breath hitching in his throat.

Obi-Wan's robes were mud-spattered and torn, lightsabre dangling loosely from one hand. His shoulder-length hair was carelessly tied back, with efficiency in mind, rather than neatness. Stray pieces of hair had pulled out of the improvised queue to fall into his eyes, which were tired and crinkled with lines at the corners.

But he was smiling, and that was enough to make all of Anakin's carefully rehearsed words fall out of his head.

"Sorry I'm late, Anakin. I hope I didn't scare you _too_ much" he chuckled, the sound melting Anakin's heart. "Of course, given the state I'm in, I wouldn't be surprised if I caused the younglings to have nightmares tonight."

Anakin nodded soundlessly, not trusting his voice to speak. Fucking _Sith_, but he forgot every time, forgot just how powerful Obi-Wan's effect on him was. They had only been separated for two weeks, but Anakin had somehow forgotten how bewitching that smile could be, how compelling that voice was. The picture of Obi-Wan that he held reverently in his mind couldn't hold a flicker in the Force to the reality of his Master's presence. Anakin's body instantly ached to be held in those arms, to be embraced and loved and desired….

But Anakin forced a smile as Obi-Wan looked at him quizzically, even though he wanted to do nothing more than run and hide in his room. Run and hide himself away, before he threw himself at his Master and devoured those lips hungrily….

Anakin gave himself a mental shake, finally finding his voice, pitching it to sound lightly mocking. "I would tell you that you need a trip to the 'fresher, Master, but I don't think that it's equipped to deal with a Jedi whose mission was to bring home _all_ the mud off one planet." He leaned indolently against the back of the couch, grinning impudently at his Master, who glared in response.

"Quiet, Padawan, or you'll taste some of this mud," Obi-Wan growled, tugging at his boots.

Anakin's hand instantly rose to the space where his braid had been. Obi-Wan hadn't noticed it yet. Or maybe he had, but hadn't said anything?

Of course – and Anakin wasn't even supposed to know about them – Obi-Wan wasn't wearing his glasses. And it was dark in the room, so that could be the….

Anakin dashed across the room to his Master's side, even as Obi-Wan sagged against the kitchen counter. The Jedi Knight hadn't made a sound, but Anakin had felt the sudden intense flare of pain over their bond. Gently sliding one arm around Obi-Wan's waist, helping his Master stand, Anakin bit his lower lip in anxiety and worried anger.

"It's your back again, isn't it?" Anakin said accusingly, carefully aiding Obi-Wan to one of the straight-backed chairs at their small table. "Stars' end, Master, didn't you take care of yourself at _all _on this mission?" He wanted to give Obi-Wan a good shake, knowing that the Jedi Knight constantly put everything else in a mission ahead of his own health. Anakin knelt next to the hard-backed chair quickly; resting his hands on Obi-Wan's knees as he stared up at his Master's face, concerned as he studied his Master's pained expression.

"It _was_ a rather trying mission, Padawan… I'll be all right." Obi-Wan sounded calm, but there was an undercurrent of confusion. Anakin knew it was a result of his sudden flare of frustration, and bent his head, feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment.

He wasn't mad at Obi-Wan; not really. Anakin was mad at himself, for not having been with Obi-Wan to ensure the Jedi took care of himself, for being the cause if the injury in the first place. As Obi-Wan's Padawan, Anakin had always made it his job to keep one eye on his Master, to look after him whenever possible.

He had only failed once, and failed miserably. Once was enough.

Anakin smiled quietly, raising his head again to meet his Master's eyes. But Obi-Wan's expression was no longer amused. There was an expression of deep hurt in his Master's eyes, a flash of pained surprise. It was gone in a second, but Anakin felt his stomach lurch painfully as his Master's shields suddenly went up to block Anakin from feeling the Jedi Knight's emotions.

_Fierfek!_ In his momentary panic over an old wound, Anakin had completely forgotten about his missing braid, the fact that he was now a Knight. Of course Obi-Wan had noticed it, how could he fail to, at such close proximity? His Master's smile was back, but it was more forced than before. Anakin could see it in the tightness at the corners of Obi-Wan's mouth, the slight furrow on his brow, and in the way that Obi-Wan didn't _quite_ meet Anakin's eyes when talking.

Anakin felt his heart constrict painfully as Obi-Wan smiled in false cheer. He didn't want to be shut out like this. He needed to tell Obi-Wan now, before this went any further.

Starting to speak, Anakin was cut off by Obi-Wan rising stiffly from his chair. "It's nothing, Anakin," he said softly, and Anakin winced, noting the deliberate use of his first name, rather than the affectionate title of Padawan. "A trip to the 'fresher will loosen it up again, and get rid of this Sith-cursed mud…."

Anakin didn't hear anything else that his Master might have said, staring intently at his hands, clenched in his lap. The image swam before his eyes as tears pricked at his lashes. He had screwed up, and he had hurt his Master once again. Anakin could see it in the Jedi Knight's eyes. Despite the fact that Obi-Wan was famed as The Negotiator, with his perfectly composed 'sabaac-face' that gave nothing away, his emotions were easily read by Anakin, the one who knew him best.

He showed too much in his eyes.

And those eyes, catching the light from the fresher room as he turned away, had been a pained silvery-grey.

Anakin staggered to his feet and stumbled over to collapse on the couch, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. It wasn't supposed to go like this. He had been practicing all day to make sure that he wouldn't be hurt by Obi-Wan; so much so that he had completely forgotten that Obi-Wan might be the one to get hurt. What Master wouldn't be wounded by the fact that his Padawan had not wanted him present at his Knighting? And Obi-Wan wasn't just any Master, and Anakin not just any apprentice. They were close, far closer than any other team in the Temple; closer than many of the families that they had met on their missions. Even if they could never have the same level of emotional and physical intimacy as Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had possessed, Obi-Wan was still everything to Anakin.

Sometimes he dared to hope that the reverse might be true as well. All ruined now, because of Anakin's impulsiveness.

Listening to the muffled sound of water falling in the 'fresher, Anakin debated getting up, grabbing his kitbag, and leaving. His apartments were already waiting for him; he could walk out the door right now and never have to return. He didn't think he could face that hurt look in Obi-Wan's eyes again. He knew he wouldn't be able to get through the conversation to come, not with Obi-Wan already wounded. His Master had a tendency to retreat into icy formality when injured. Anakin couldn't face that, not here, not now, not tonight.

Not without his heart breaking.

Only the notion that he owed Obi-Wan an explanation, if nothing else, kept him glued to the spot. Reaching out one hand blindly, Anakin called on the Force to bring him a small wrapped package from where it lay underneath the tree. Turning it over and over in his hands, Anakin took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, to prepare for the conversation to come.

He needed to prepare himself, as carefully as he would for any battle. Talking to Obi-Wan sometimes felt like a war; a conflict in Anakin's mind to maintain his side of the discussion while still keeping his body in line. It didn't help that Obi-Wan was depressingly well-versed on Force-knew how many topics… nothing that Anakin could fake knowing about when concentrating on…_other matters._

Stars' end, how many times had they been on missions together where he and Obi-Wan would end up hiding from their pursuers, crammed together in some tight, dark hole pressed chest to chest, groin to groin? It was torture, sweet, agonizing torture; Obi-Wan's forehead leaning against Anakin's shoulder, his arms strong around Anakin's back as both of them struggled not to make a single sound. Obi-Wan's hair would tickle Anakin's nose slightly, his breath warm on Anakin's neck, twined as close as lovers. And Anakin would close his eyes tightly, hardly daring to breathe, pretending for a moment that they could always be that close, that intimate.

Perfect agony.

Anakin had been obliged to become very good at calling… _discouraging_ images to mind. Naked Mace Windu or naked Yoda seemed to always work at calming his raging libido.

It didn't always work when, sleeping in their shared tent on the battlefield, Obi-Wan would twist in his sleep and snuggle up against Anakin, groin pressed against Anakin's ass. Then Anakin had to use… other ways… of dispelling his tension, trying to be as silent as possible as he touched himself, seeing Obi-Wan's face in his mind, feeling Obi-Wan pushed tightly against him….

Then Obi-Wan would murmur Qui-Gon's name in his sleep, and Anakin would feel hot shame painting his cheeks, even as he came against his hand. He hated that, being forcibly reminded that he would never measure up to Qui-Gon. He had loved Obi-Wan since he had been 15 years old, while his Master was still pining for a man – a ghost – who had been gone for eight years. How could he ever hope to measure up to a man who was practically a legend among the Jedi, a martyr who cold do no wrong in his Master's eyes?

Sometimes Anakin wished he had never left Tatooine….

Anakin looked up as the water stopped, clenching his hand around the small package as the door hissed open. Light from the fresher room illuminated Obi-Wan from behind, glistening over his still-damp hair, outlining the contours of every muscle and the loose folds of the sleep pants that fell low on Obi-Wan's hips.

Obi-Wan's face was in shadow from the harsh back-light, but Anakin could _feel_ the muted sadness from the older man. He knew that if he could see Obi-Wan's face, his Master's eyes would still be grey.

"I am apparently remiss in offering you my congratulations," Obi-Wan's voice, smooth and lilting, cut through Anakin's thoughts. "I suppose I should accustom myself to calling you Master Skywalker now."

Anakin tried not to flinch at the cool formality in Obi-Wan's tone, forcing himself to stand on trembling legs. This was it.

"I wanted to surprise you," Anakin whispered quietly, his forced smile wavering slightly as he mutely offered the box to Obi-Wan. _Don't shut me out, please, Master. Don't retreat into polite distance. _Anakin tried to touch Obi-Wan's mind through their bond and gasped softly when he met no resistance… met _nothing_. He didn't hit Obi-Wan's shields, because the shields were no longer there.

The bond was no longer there.

Obi-Wan had dissolved it. It was a Master's right of course, a tradition when a Padawan graduated into Knighthood, but Anakin had never even considered the possibility that he would lose that precious connection. He kept probing at the empty spot in his mind. He expected it to hurt. It should have hurt…not this odd numb feeling.

"Well, it's hardly a surprise that the best Jedi in the Order should be elevated to the status of Knight in my absence, is it?" Obi-Wan said blithely, avoiding meeting Anakin's eyes as he over to the liquor cabinet. He didn't even spare a glance for the carefully wrapped package, his movements tight and precise. Anakin caught his breath at the barely-concealed pain in those words, the silent accusation behind that innocuous phrase _'in my absence'._

"Master-" Anakin whispered, pleading, taking one step forward. He wanted to bridge this sudden chasm between them, to make amends before it was too late. But Obi-Wan cut him off, pouring two glasses of brandy and forcing one into Anakin's hand.

"To your promotion, Master Skywalker." Obi-Wan raised his glass in an almost mocking salute, downing the contents in one swallow. Anakin noted the way his Master's hand clenched around the glass, so tight that his knuckles were almost white. Anakin's free hand was similarly clenched, fisting into the dark robes at his side.

Anakin set his glass aside, trying to smile as he looked back at Obi-Wan. "Please, Master… call me Anakin."

Obi-Wan could no longer even force the illusion of joviality, eyes haunted as he finally turned to look at Anakin. "I would hardly presume," he demurred quietly, pressing his lips together tightly.

"Oh for the love of…" Anakin picked up his glass, draining the liquor in one swallow, feeling the burst of heat at the base of his skull. Marching over to Obi-Wan, he snatched the empty liquor glass away in a burst of anger, slamming it down onto the cabinet behind Obi-Wan. Their eyes locked, and Anakin felt a thrill race down his spine as he pressed the small package into his Master's hand. They stood close enough to touch, close enough for Anakin to see Obi-Wan's chest rise and fall with every breath.

He suddenly realized how much _smaller_ Obi-Wan had gotten over the years. Anakin had never before realized that he was the taller of the two of them.

"Open it," Anakin insisted, voice tinged with desperation as Obi-Wan stared silently at him. Anakin was shaking slightly, he could feel the sweat on the palms of his hands, and resisted the urge to rub them against his robe. He suddenly regretted doing this; he should have left before Obi-Wan came home. As a Jedi, Anakin knew he should have learned when it was wise to cut his losses and retreat. He should have made a clean break from Obi-Wan. Then there wouldn't be this damnable tension between them, so tightly wound that Anakin could feel it thrumming in the air.

Carefully sliding away from being pinned against the cabinet, Obi-Wan moved to sit on one arm of the couch. Anakin leaned back against the wooden sideboard, biting his lip as he followed Obi-Wan's movements with his eyes. He saw how his Master hesitated upon peeling back the wrapping paper, seeing the muted shine of an elegant wooden box, how those long, elegant fingers lingered over the burnished bronze clasp. He looked up in mute question, meeting Anakin's eyes. When Anakin nodded imperceptibly, Obi-Wan gently opened the lid.

Anakin rose smoothly from his position, coming to stand silently behind his Master as Obi-Wan stared at what was inside the box.

Anakin's Padawan braid was nestled lightly on a bed of black velvet, glowing softly gold in the candlelight of the room. Anakin saw the way Obi-Wan tensed, how his hands tightened on the arm of the couch, digging into the worn fabric.

"Did you think I didn't want you to be there?" Anakin whispered sadly, gripping Obi-Wan's shoulder tightly with one hand. "I-I'm sorry, Obi-Wan, I knew it was a mistake as soon as I walked into the Council Chambers."

"Then why did you do it?"

Anakin wanted to cry, hearing the hurt and anger in Obi-Wan's voice, seeing his Master's shoulders tremble. He suddenly felt so helpless, tongue-tied and at a loss to explain what had felt like the right decision at the time.

"I-I… I just wanted you to be proud of me, to see… to see how well I could do on my own." It sounded so stupid now, so ridiculously banal and immature. Because he couldn't express the full reason, the longing he had felt to be respected by Obi-Wan the way that the Jedi Knight had respected Qui-Gon… a foolish, naïve hope that being a Knight would somehow change the dynamic of their relationship enough for Obi-Wan to finally fall in love with him.

"I'm only a Jedi because of you…" Anakin whispered finally, holding his body rigid, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around Obi-Wan, to comfort his Master in some way. "You… you were the only one I wanted to be there. I'm sorry." He laughed softly, desperately, taking a deep shuddering breath. He wanted to press his face against the back of his Master's neck, to kiss the soft skin and breathe in Obi-Wan's scent. To hide from all the stupid decisions he had made and be nothing more than a love-struck Padawan once more.

But he forced himself to move back a step before his body betrayed him, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

Obi-Wan stroked one finger along the braid reverently, his voice quiet and severe as he spoke.

"Why are you giving this to me?"

Anakin laughed harshly, scrubbing one hand over his eyes. "Do you even have to ask?" Padawans guarded their braid closely as a mark of their rite of passage. The braid was as important as their lightsabre, and as much a symbol of their status. It was only given away when the Jedi found someone more worthy of guarding it – it was entrusting part of their identity, part of their _soul_, to another. It represented years of work, of dedication, of service… of _commitment_, which was as close as most Jedi ever got to love.Anakin could think of no other to whom he would want to entrust his braid. He didn't even want to look – he already knew that a person he loved more than Obi-Wan Kenobi simply did not exist. And Obi-Wan would know that, and would understand what Anakin was trying to say without words.

"How could you think that I wasn't proud of you?" Obi-Wan's voice sounded choked, and his eyes were glassy with unshed tears as he turned to face Anakin. "By the Force, Anakin you're…" he shook his head tightly, pressing one hand over his eyes. "I'm… I'm sorry that I never…"

"_Don't_,_" _Anakin whispered, shaking his head. "I couldn't have had a better Master, Obi-Wan." He started to reach out, wanting to touch Obi-Wan, to make contact with him somehow. But he let his hand fall limply back to his side, knowing that if he made that connection, he wouldn't be able to stop. He would cry and kiss Obi-Wan and….

"I wanted to be there." Obi-Wan whispered, staring down at the box in his lap. "I wanted to be the one to…" he sighed heavily, stroking the end of the braid with one finger. He suddenly looked so much older to Anakin, his eyes downcast, shoulders hunched slightly. Obi-Wan's shields were too tight for Anakin to sense any emotion, but his body language broadcasted his hurt and sadness just as clearly.

Anakin held his breath, wanting to speak, not knowing what he could possibly say, but growing more and more anxious as the silence dragged on.

"I don't… I don't have anything as priceless as this to give you, Anakin," Obi-Wan said finally, his eyes still staring fixedly down at the golden plait.

Anakin knelt in front of his Master, staring up into eyes that were now brilliantly blue. "May I ask you for something, Master?"

Obi-Wan frowned slightly, raising one hand to caress the side of Anakin's face. Automatically, Anakin pushed his cheek against that calloused palm, leaning into the tender touch. "Of course you may. Anything you want –"

"A kiss?" Anakin gulped out before Obi-Wan could finish speaking, his voice barely audible. "Just… just one. Just one kiss…" he babbled on nervously, as Obi-Wan's eyes widened in surprise and a tense silence fell between them.

"Padawan, I –" Obi-Wan began.

"No I'm not," Anakin cut in smoothly, stretching up to cup Obi-Wan's cheeks in his hands. "Not anymore."

_Force, let me have this one moment, please. That's all I ask…._

His lips brushed lightly against Obi-Wan's own, and he felt the shiver that ran through his Master at the intimate contact. A chaste kiss, a brief instant, breath commingling on their lips. Anakin let his eyes fall closed, savouring the feel of Obi-Wan's mouth delicately pressed against his own. It was too sweet to end… but he forced himself to pull away, forced himself to break that innocent kiss before he pushed too far.

Obi-Wan's eyes were still wide with shock, boring into Anakin's own.

_Well, that's done it, Skywalker_, Anakin found himself thinking bitterly. _You've successfully alienated him forever. Not bad for your first day as a Jedi Knight…._

"A-Anakin…?"

He hated the unstrung note in Obi-Wan's voice, the disbelief that battered Anakin, making him sink back on his haunches on the floor in embarrassment. Keeping his head down, studying the floor intently, Anakin twisted his hands together awkwardly. He felt like a misbehaving Padawan, brought to heel by his Master and forced to explain his actions.

Flicking his eyes up at Obi-Wan's for a brief instant, then back down at the floor again, Anakin began haltingly. "I… I'm sorry, Master… I shouldn't have… shouldn't have… I'm sorry. I-I-I know that you loved Qui-Gon, and I know that you still love him and that you probably always will, and that I'm just the little runt of a Padawan that you were forced to adopt. Don't –" he shook his head as Obi-Wan started to protest, "don't deny it. You didn't want me any more than I wanted you. And I know that I'm still going to be that annoying kid in your eyes, but now that I'm a Knight, I… I just had to tell you, that's all…"

He couldn't look at the floor to say this, no matter how much easier it would be. The HoloNet reporters called him the Hero with No Fear, but here he was, terrified about what he was doing, of what he was saying. He had faced down overwhelming odds in battle, had fought in the arena on Geonosis, had faced a Sith Lord and lost an arm… but nothing in his life was more difficult than forcing himself to stare right into Obi-Wan's eyes at this moment.

"I love you."

One instant, that was all he could manage, before the floor demanded his attention again. His mind, still in shock at what he had just confessed, let his voice run on autopilot.

"I love you. I've loved you since I was fifteen. I don't… I don't know what to do with myself when you're not around, because you… you're everything. You always have been everything…." Anakin dared to glance at his Master once again, to find Obi-Wan staring at him as though he didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. Feeling a stab of pain in his heart, Anakin quickly returned his gaze to the floor. "I… I just needed to tell you that. That I love you and… and that I-I always have, Master. Obi-Wan."

Anakin shut his eyes tightly, feeling traitorous tears squeeze out from underneath his closed eyelids to trickle down his cheeks. "But I know… I know that you love Qui-Gon, and that you'll never care about me the same way that I do you, but I really need to hear it from you. Just tell me. Tell me that you'll never love me and I'll just leave, because I know that this will make things awkward between us, and I don't want that, but I had to tell you. I had to tell you that I love you. So just tell me now, Obi-Wan. Master. Tell me, please."

_Tell me that you don't love me. _Anakin's mind begged silently. _Just put me out of my misery and tell me. _

He was dimly aware that there were tears on his cheeks, that his hands were clenched tightly against the floor, his head bent as though awaiting an executioner's blow.

He didn't look up when he heard Obi-Wan move, didn't look up when his Master's knees filled his field of vision, clad in loose black sleep-pants. He didn't even look up when warm, strong arms wrapped around him fiercely, crushing him against Obi-Wan's chest. He pressed his face against Obi-Wan's neck, shaking as he felt one calloused hand stroke his hair soothingly.

"You're a stupid bantha's ass, runt." Obi-Wan said quietly, his voice laughing. Anakin stiffened in surprise at the nickname, pulling away from Obi-Wan to stare at him silently.

There were tears on the Jedi Knight's cheeks, but Obi-Wan was smiling as he caressed Anakin's cheek again. "How could you ever think that I didn't love you in return? How _else_ would I have managed to put up with you all these years?"

Anakin wanted to frame some retort, but suddenly Obi-Wan's mouth was on his, a desperate expression of passion too long denied.

Emotion exploded between them, binding their minds together with a bond deeper than that of a Master and Apprentice. Anakin could feel tears on his cheeks, mingling with Obi-Wan's own as his hands rose to tangle in the Jedi Knight's soft hair. Their senses intertwined, minds wrapping around each other until Anakin felt every breath that Obi-Wan took, felt his Master's heartbeat as though it were his own. Until they were one being, separated by the barrier of their skin, but irretrievably linked in mind, in soul.

And words no longer mattered.

-----

**Anakin is 21 years old**

"A-Anakin?"

"Yes, Master?"

"What in the Sith… Why are you wearing a _bow_, Anakin?"

"It's the Solstice, Master. Don't you want to unwrap your present?"

* * *

Please make sure to check out the VERY NOT WORKSAFE but amazing fanart done for chapter 6 by skywlkerkenobi at: (links dont copy into here so I'm going to ahve to write it out in full...) 

http (colon backslash blackslash) skywlker-kenobi (dot) livejournal (dot) com (backslash) 12639 (dot) html (number sign) cutid1

rated NC-17, but it is verrrrrrry hawt!

And leave a review, if you would! I would love to come back from my trip to find tons of lovies crammed into my hotmail!

LOVES

Xtine


	6. Anakin is 22 Years Old

**A/N:** Very quick stuff here. Profuse and profound apologies about the delay. My muse decided to tour Europe while RL kicked in. Thank you to everyone who reviewed the fic up to this point -- I'm sorry, but I want to get this out there asap, so I don't have the time at the mo to go abck through and thank you all individually. It is very much appreciated though.

**TM: **as usual, you're an angel for putting up with me. Hugs to you, this is as fixed as best as I could do it.

**VII – Anakin is 22 years old**

His head ached abominably. The brilliant fluorescent of the passing speeders, the golden pools of light spilling from the Temple's windows, even the glimmer of luminescence off the white armour of the clone troopers intensified the pain. Anakin… but no, he wasn't Anakin anymore, was he? Lord Sidious had given him a new name. He was Vader. _Darth Vader_ pulled his black cloak tighter around himself, tugging the hood up over his head.

There was a dragon curling around his heart, eating him alive from the inside out. It was a worm of fear that gnawed at his spirit, destroying his soul. It _burned_, burned with a cold fire that made his hands tremble violently. It was consuming him, and Vader didn't know what else to do but satisfy its hunger. His visions were getting worse as well, making him wake sobbing, curling over to hug the sleeping figure of his Master tightly, unwilling to let him go. He did not remember when they had started, these images that carried an ominous ring of prophecy. The dreams that cast into sharp relief everything that he had gained in his life… and everything that he still stood to lose.

The dreams were recent, but the dragon had always been there, ever since Anakin had been a young slave. It fed off his fear of the dark, fear for his mother. It had grown once he had been taken in by the Jedi, had plagued him with the idea that his good fortune was too sweet to ever last.

It had grown stronger with every year spent with Obi-Wan. It twisted inside of him on every mission, every time a stray blaster bolt came too close to his beloved for comfort. It laughed at him, muttering in sibilant undertones that thundered through him with every beat of his frantic heart. It promised him that the end would come soon.

And he would be alone. Shattered, weak, helpless. _Alone._

Every night he saw Obi-Wan, standing on a bank of black sand above a river of fire. There were tears on his cheeks, his face twisted into a terrible grimace of pain. His eyes were shining silver, echoing terrible sadness. He was screaming something, words that Anakin didn't want to hear.

'_I loved you!'_

_Loved._ He had stopped loving Anakin. It had always been only a matter of time before the two of them parted ways. Before their attachment grew too strong. From Anakin's perspective, it was already too late. He had fallen in love, and it filled him with paralysing terror of _loss_.

Obi-Wan's face, contorted in anguish, continued to haunt Anakin's dreams night after night.

'_I loved you…'_

He just wanted it to end. The nightmares, the visions, the _uncertainty_…he wanted it all to end. He had allowed himself to become soft, weak under the guidance of the Jedi Order. It had been that weakness that had prevented him from saving his mother, the woman who meant the world to him. That same weakness would make him lose Obi-Wan.

Once he purged himself of that frailty, the nightmares would stop. The fear would subside, and the dragon would leave. The uncertainty would end when he was strong, powerful. Untouchable to anyone, removed from fear.

And Lord Sidious had told him how. Sidious had made him realize that the Jedi were the ones who were doing this to him, who gave him power and forbade him to use it, who bound him to the man he loved and denied him the right to feel.

"'_Take your Master Kenobi for instance, my friend. I certainly would not be able to find fault with him as a Jedi, but therein lies the problem. I cannot imagine him ever soul bonding with another Knight, or even allowing himself to be attached to someone. It would go against the very Order he lives for…. _

'_Anakin? Are you quite all right? I do hope I haven't said anything to upset you….'"_

Lord Sidious was right of course. As long as he followed the Jedi Code, he would be bound as surely as he had been constrained in slavery on Tatooine. Obi-Wan would never allow himself to love Anakin, to be attached to him. And it _hurt_. It tore away at the last shreds of self-control he had possessed, and had let the dragon in his heart break free. And it was all because of the Jedi. They twisted people, turned their minds, denied them the most important facet of being _alive_ – the right to love. They were evil. Sidious had helped him to see that. They only wanted control. Control of the galaxy, control of the powers Anakin possessed as their '_Chosen One.' _The title made him sneer now. Vader was no one's _chosen;_ they had no right to chose him for anything. He owed them nothing now.

Obi-Wan had been a means to an end; Vader could see that now. There was no passion, there was only serenity. There was no such thing as _love_ within the Jedi Order, only sex as a means to dispel tension. The illusion of something more had been one more pretty chain to bind Anakin to them, to foster a sense of loyalty, of devotion, of _trust…._

Something in Vader lurched painfully at the last, a raw ache that pierced his heart for a moment before he shoved it aside roughly. Trust was weakness, a pleasant illusion for those too feeble to understand the truth that Sidious had shown him.

There was no strength in the Light Side. It was rotten, corrupted with its arbitrary rules that safeguarded the pitiful and contemptible Masters, and killed the young, impressionable Padawans. They died on far-flung battlefields, while the Council sat in increasing stagnation in their haven of the Temple. And they would not let it end, because the war made them more powerful; it let them grab more and more control.

Anakin had not wanted to believe it; he had been blinded by the Jedi's lies. But Vader could see the truth clearly. The Jedi hurt people without thought or regret, too terrified to ever look into the shadows beyond the fading light and seize _true_ Mastery.

There was only one solution.

"'_That's the question you have to ask yourself, my young friend. What do you love more? The man who will never – _can_ never – return your devotion, or peace for the entire galaxy from this bitter war?'"_

A sharp motion of his hand, and the clones marched forward behind him, flooding up the large avenue that lead to the Temple proper. Snow was starting to drift down from the clouds overhead, muting the noise of a thousand boots marching in perfect rhythm.

Solstice Night. The one evening when all the Masters were almost guaranteed to be in the Temple. It was the perfect time to stage this attack. No, not an attack. This wasn't aggression; this was _necessity_. It was a purge of the evil that was seeping through the galaxy. They would cut it out at its very heart, cauterising the festering wound of the Jedi in the minds of all citizens of the Republic.

"Sir, recon picked up a life form just outside the entranceway."

"Capture him," Vader hissed, waving one hand imperiously. "We don't want him to alert the others." Two clones instantly peeled off from the group, slipping through the shadows towards the massive doors. Vader raised his other hand in the air, signalling the rest of the platoon to halt as he swept on ahead up the stairs.

And paused, seeing the familiar figure who gazed up at the cloud-muffled sky.

_No. No, no, no. Sith no…._

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan smiled, looking delighted. "I was wondering when you would return, I –" he stopped as Vader ignited his sabre, the blue beam cutting blindingly through the darkness. Instantly, the two hidden clones grabbed the stunned Jedi Knight, kicking his knees out from under him and twisting his arms back.

Obi-Wan struggled against them in vain, too shocked by the sudden reversal of events to even call on the Force to aid him. Vader could feel his confusion, could see it in the wide silver eyes that turned his way desperately. Vader smirked, enjoying the Jedi Master's bewilderment. He had learned to guard his thoughts well from the Jedi, hiding the dragon in his heart from their prying eyes. Even this Jedi, who had claimed to love Anakin, hadn't been able to divine Vader's thoughts. Undoubtedly, this abrupt reversal had shaken him badly.

Vader smiled. How marvellous, to tear out the foundations of belief from underneath a Jedi Master. To take away in one move all faith in the Light, and reveal the dominating power of the Dark Side. It gave him an incredible rush of power, just as Sidious had promised it would.

Obi-Wan had ceased fighting, his eyes locked on Vader's own. "Anakin?"

The moment of wicked euphoria was banished by the sound of that voice, so lost, so hurt. Hoarse with shock, the melodious timbre was roughened with despair, making Vader tremble.

_No!_ He would not be weak, not now. The Jedi would die tonight, and Kenobi among them. That was the only way to prevent the visions from coming true, to keep Obi-Wan from screaming those words.

_I loved you…._

Vader was above love, above fear and pain – emotions that this… this _pitiful_ Jedi Knight represented to him. He had known that Obi… that _Kenobi_ would die tonight, but some part of him – the detestable part of him that was still so pathetic – had hoped it would be a death he would not have to witness. That he would find the body after the purge, shrunken and empty, and be able to laugh, finally free from the source of his fear, his weakness.

It was more fitting that he be the one to free himself.

Tearing his eyes away from Kenobi's own, he nodded curtly to the commander who had followed behind him. "Secure the perimeter. Wait on my signal."

"No… no, Cody, don't…don't do it…" Kenobi managed to gasp out before being kicked sharply in the stomach. He doubled over in pain, sobbing for breath.

"My orders don't come from you anymore, General." Commander Cody answered almost regretfully, nodding once to Vader before jogging back down the stairs to the waiting platoon.

"Do you want us to execute him, Lord Vader?"

"No," he shook his head slowly, staring down at the pathetically crumpled figure of his former Master. "No, this is one Jedi I'll kill myself." He lashed out spitefully, kicking at Kenobi in anger. The Jedi flinched, hissing softly in pain, but his intense gaze never left Vader's face. It unnerved him, the despairing calm with which the Jedi faced him. A sharp nod at the two impassive clones, and one struck Kenobi across the temple with the butt of his blaster, driving him to the ground.

Vader watched dispassionately, eyeing the bloody gash on Kenobi's temple unfeelingly. The Jedi deserved to suffer. They all did, but Kenobi most of all.

_Because you never loved me. Because you're only waiting to leave me. Because I was nothing more than a cheap fuck to you. I hate you. Bastard, I hate you._

And that hatred made him strong, just as Sidious had promised it would. Sidious had never lied to him, had never failed to live up to his vows.

'_I loved you'_

_I hate you…_

"Anakin, _please_," Kenobi stared up at him, his eyes a vibrant blue, brighter even than Vader's sabre. "Don't do this."

The dragon inside shrank backwards from the light in those eyes, and then surged up again, burning Vader's heart, clawing tighter at his spirit.

No. He didn't want to listen to Kenobi's words, didn't want to hear that he was loved in return. It would only make things harder. Obi-Wan would still leave him eventually, and hadn't he taught himself to harden his heart, to prepare for that rejection? He had to be cold; it was the only way to protect himself. To keep the nightmares at bay. He could not allow himself to be susceptible, not anymore.

"_Anakin_._"_

"My lord?"

No more.

Vader could feel his heart pounding loudly in his ears, could feel the rasp of his breath catching in his throat. The clones holding Kenobi exchanged subtle glances, and Vader cursed himself silently. He was being weak. He wouldn't allow himself to be so feeble any longer.

It hurt too much.

Blinking rapidly, Vader knelt down in front of Kenobi, his cloak billowing out darkly behind him as he leaned down to his former Master's eye-level. He paused for a second, forcing himself to stare into Kenobi's eyes, letting the Jedi see his own death in their shimmering red depths.

Obi-Wan would die. And Anakin would die with him. Then Vader would be safe forever, invulnerable, protected. And life would be easier.

Yes. Just like his Master – his _new_ Master – had promised. Vader stood abruptly.

"Kill him," he whispered, striding past, black cloak flowing out behind him. He couldn't do it himself. He would slaughter any other Jedi that his Lord put before him, and do it gladly, to cool the furnace that was consuming his heart. But he wasn't strong enough yet for this. Not for this.

Those eyes haunted his dreams enough already.

Vader straightened his shoulders, crossing his arms across his chest, furious at this moment of weakness. Swiftly, he invented justifications, anything to explain away his inability to end the Jedi's life. Kenobi wasn't worthy of a Jedi's death, given by the grace of a lightsabre. Vader wouldn't sully his hands with killing his former Master.

However, he couldn't force himself to watch either, preferring to stare at the massive doors of the Temple before him. Let Kenobi die dishonourably; he was a coward, not even daring to fight the clones who held him captive. Well, he could die at their hands then.

_He wasn't afraid of them; he was only unwilling to strike you down. _

The thought came unbidden, and was swiftly shoved aside. It didn't matter.

There was the snap-hiss of a lightsabre being ignited, the sound of two bodies falling. Vader tensed, ready to turn and drive his sabre through Kenobi's heart. It was what Lord Sidious would expect of him, to silence this Jedi Master, symbol of the stagnation of the Republic. Set in his archaic customs, blind to anything beyond the rigid Code that bound him.

The dragon in his mind roared, screaming for blood, for death. To be fed, to be quieted, if only for a little while. Only the purge of the Temple would satisfy the demon inside that was devouring him. Lord Sidious had promised him.

But it would come back, to eat at his mind. It never stayed silent for long.

Vader snarled at that stray thought, blocking his mind against it. It wasn't true; Sidious had promised that killing the Jedi would make everything cease to hurt him. It would make him stronger. The dragon would die along with the Jedi.

But instead of turning to engage Kenobi in sabre combat, Vader's hand loosened inexplicably, letting the hilt fall from his grasp to clatter on the ground as he sank to his knees.

What was _wrong_ with him? He gritted his teeth in anger at the furious tearing pain in his heart, the roar of the dragon echoing in his ears. A roar that overlay the sound of quiet sobbing, a sickening sensation of grief that leeched into Vader's cold mind.

_Stop. STOP! _A voice pleaded in Vader's cold mind, barely more than a whisper. Anakin's voice, weak Jedi scum that he was. Vader ignored it, blocking out the sound with casual cruelty. Anakin would struggle, but in the end he was too feeble to triumph against the power that Sidious had given Vader. Soon enough, his voice would be silenced permanently.

_Please stop…._

Footsteps.

Vader knew he was only aware of his former Master's approach because Kenobi allowed them to be heard. The man could move more silently than a puuri cat when he wanted to.

He wanted Vader to hear him coming.

It didn't matter.

Vader drew a deep breath, straightening his spine and tilting his head back slightly, keeping his eyes tightly shut. Yes. This could end the suffering as well. If Kenobi killed him, then the nightmares would stop. The pain would stop, and it would be permanent. He wouldn't ever be able to be hurt by anybody again.

Yes.

He felt Kenobi pause behind him, and mentally urged the Jedi Master to strike. He wanted it to be over, and quickly. Just to end it.

"My Lord," Obi-Wan said with quiet sarcasm, but Vader trembled slightly. Trembled, because underneath that cold mask of emotionless impassivity that the Sith had placed on him, Anakin Skywalker was crying at the pain that tinged his former Master's words. Vader couldn't block out the sound of that voice in his mind, the voice of a Jedi who was supposed to already be dead. The fragile, emotional side of his personality that he had crushed beneath the weight of the Dark Side.

Anakin was screaming in his mind, trying to break free, trying to reach out to Kenobi.

'_Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan, _please!'

Vader cruelly crushed the faint echo of a bond instantly, snuffing out Anakin's desperate attempts to make Kenobi hear him.

Irritating pest.

"Aren't you going to kill me, _Master_ Kenobi?" Vader whispered, voice heavily sardonic.

"I would very much like to."

The icy venom in that cultured voice, lying thinly over an unfathomable depth of hurt and betrayal and _love_ made Anakin surge forward, cracking Vader's mask for a second. He doubled over, arms crossed tightly over his chest, crying out softly at the pain that tore through him. Anakin's pain, his love and anguish and fear….

With a harsh gasp, Vader snatched up his fallen sabre and lunged to his feet, igniting the blade as he whirled on Kenobi. The stunned Jedi Knight staggered back a step, narrowly avoiding the blow, his eyes wide with momentary shock. Then his own sabre leapt back to life, and Vader observed the shift in those calculating eyes. It was as though something shut down inside Kenobi, killing the man, and leaving only the programmed movements of a Jedi.

Their blades crashed together, thunderous in the echoing vault of the ceiling above, painfully bright against the encroaching darkness. Vader drove Kenobi back towards the sweeping steps bit by bit, every strike ferocious and precise. He spun and whirled, baring his teeth in a ferocious grin as Kenobi met each movement with equal grace. It was a dance, more intimate than a lover's caress – Obi-Wan and Anakin had been sparring partners far longer than anything else. Subconsciously Vader and Kenobi adjusted for every strike, knowing without thinking each other's movements by heart.

From the corner of his eye, Vader saw the clone troops level their blasters as he and Kenobi reached the top of the stairs. Momentarily distracted, he hissed as Kenobi's blade came slashing down overhead, adjusting his own stance to meet the blow. The blades crashed together, sparks of energy flying, both men straining against each other with all their strength.

Vader gave in first, twisting sharply aside and sweeping his sabre downwards so Kenobi would stumble. In that free second, he flung out a Force-push that sent the tense clones sprawling backwards.

"He's _mine!_" Vader screamed, raising his blade high as Kenobi regained his footing and turned back warily, sabre at the ready.

_"Yours?" _Kenobi's lips twisted on the word in mockery, as he slowly gave ground, bringing the battle back into the shadow of the Temple.

_'Mmm…mine…' Anakin murmured in contentment, hooking one leg over Obi-Wan's hip to pull him closer. _

_'I didn't realize I was a possession…,' Obi-Wan muttered with a yawn, turning to snuggle against Anakin's chest. Anakin wriggled as his lover's beard tickled sensitive skin, prompting a lazy grumble from the sleepy Obi-Wan…. _

Vader staggered backwards at the memory that exploded behind his eyes, barely parrying Kenobi's next blow. The Force of it was enough to drive him to his knees, arms trembling with effort to keep Kenobi's sabre from crashing down upon him.

Vader glanced up, feeling sudden desperation like acid in his veins, and met Kenobi's eyes. And saw the sparkle of unshed tears. Anakin yearned to kiss away those tears, wanted to pull Obi-Wan into his arms. Anakin wanted Obi-Wan to hold _him_, to feel safe and confident and let him cry for all the damage they had unwittingly done to each other.

Would Obi-Wan have tried to help him had Anakin ever told his lover about the nightmares…?

_'No,' _Vader hissed to himself, trying to drown out the momentary doubt with his cold, calculating arrogance. _'Why should Kenobi give a damn? You are nothing but a convenient lay, a fuck toy. He never loved you. You _know_ whom he loved.'_

Yes, Vader knew that just as Anakin did. Kenobi had loved Jinn. The Jedi forbade attachment, of course, so they had sent Jinn to die. A suicide mission that would leave Anakin alone again. Vader remembered how much Kenobi hated Anakin, the resentment, anger, and bitterness that had been directed towards him. He was no different from the other Jedi. He deserved to die.

And yet, when Kenobi stepped back cautiously, sabre raised again in a ready position, Vader could not bring himself to rise and resume the attack. He felt heavy, so heavy….

The sabre clattered from his fingers, rolling across the marble towards Kenobi. The Jedi did not blink, did not take his eyes from Vader's own, gazes locked together in mutual misery.

"End it." Vader didn't know who spoke; if it was himself, or Anakin, or even Kenobi. The voice, whomever it belonged to, was full of bitterness.

Vader knew he had failed his new Master by giving in to this Jedi, by being incapable of striking Kenobi down. He hadn't purged his own spirit of its frailties; the dragon was still tearing bloody furrows in his heart.

Nothing had changed. Nothing _would_ change. Sidious had lied to him, just as everyone else had ever done.

Why was Kenobi hesitating? He, Vader, was the enemy, he was a Sith who would have destroyed the Temple had it not been for this fucking Jedi.

"_KILL ME!" _He screamed in anger, a fury borne of overwhelming terror. False bravado, hiding the little boy underneath who was still afraid of the dark. Darkness that he lived in now, completely of his own volition.

Obi-Wan laughed: a harsh, despairing sound. "You know very well that I can't." He was shaking, Vader noticed, face contorted in a grimace of pain. "_Anakin…._"

Something snapped, as though the bonds that had kept Anakin Skywalker captive behind the mask of Vader were suddenly broken. It was the love, the painful, overbearing _love_ with which Obi-Wan spoke his name. The love that had always been there, in every look, in every touch, in every kiss.

Vader screamed, roaring like the dragon that tried to eat his soul, to destroy any goodness that was inside of him. They were the same in the end, Vader and the dragon. Both were borne of darkness and fear. Anakin gasped for air, realizing that he was sobbing, doubled over in pain as he ripped through the cloud of poisoned words in which Sidious had wrapped him.

He didn't want to die. He didn't want to be a Sith. He didn't want to wake screaming every night from visions of Obi-Wan crying, or to tear himself apart with fear every time Obi-Wan went on a solo mission. Anakin wanted to lock Obi-Wan in their shared apartments so that he couldn't get hurt any more, and sleep forever in the halo of those strong arms. And he knew that that was impossible. That uncertainty, that fear, hadn't left him. Nothing had changed in that respect.

And yet everything had. _Anakin_ had changed. He was a traitor to the Jedi, to Obi-Wan, and to himself.

Dimly, Anakin heard Obi-Wan's voice, low and urgent, as though in a dream, barely penetrating the relentless screaming that was echoing inside his head. Jedi were going to die tonight. And it would be all his fault. He would be branded a murderer tonight, and it would be nothing but truth.

All his fault.

"Masters. This is Obi-Wan Kenobi. The Temple is under attack, repeat: the Temple is under attack. Quinlan, get your ass down here to the main entrance right away. I'm going to need your help."

Through the haze of tears that blinded him, Anakin stretched out one hand in entreaty to Obi-Wan as the Jedi Knight brushed past him. A plea that went unanswered – Obi-Wan's expression was stern and resolute.

Sobs choked Anakin, he curled over tighter, hands clenched against the cold, unfeeling marble. He could not turn to look, could not bear to see Obi-Wan striding confidently forward and down those stairs to where the better part of half a troop of clones would be waiting. In his mind's eye, he could see Obi-Wan's body sprawled on the steps of the Temple, sightless grey eyes asking unanswerable questions of the sky above, burn marks scorching his once immaculate tunics.

There was a scream. A howl of grief and rage and fear. The sensation of movement, dizzyingly fast, blurred sky and columns and stairs. Then there were white bodies all around him, faceless men in identical armour that melted away at the kiss of his lightsabre. And Obi-Wan wasn't going to die because Anakin loved him and he wasn't going to let _anyone_ hurt his Obi-Wan, and –

"Anakin! _Anakin!_"

No! They were pulling him away, but there were some clones still left alive, clones that might fire at Obi-Wan and hurt him and that would be unforgivable, and Anakin wouldn't let them. He _would_. _Not_. _Let_. _Them_. He struggled wildly against the arms that held him and dragged him backwards, realizing that the howling scream was coming from his own throat.

He was back inside the Temple. The pungent smell of the _pinears_ arranged about the grand entrance assaulted his senses, making him feel dizzy and weak. The sounds of battle still echoed from outside as he was released. Staggering to his feet, Anakin turned back towards the doors.

Obi-Wan…. _Obi-Wan…_.

"Not so fast, young one," a sharp voice instructed, as he was pulled back again. Anakin tried to struggle, but his limbs felt too weak. He swayed, and found himself abruptly on his back on the floor, with Quinlan kneeling over him. The Jedi Master had a dispassionate scowl on his face. Anakin protested feebly as his outer tunic was pushed aside, as a bacta patch was pressed firmly against his skin. Only then, as the healing tingle spread through the wound, did Anakin realize that he was soaked with blood.

"Lie still." Quinlan instructed him tersely.

"Obi-…Obi-Wan…?"

"You won't be any help to him like this. Stay still."

"It's… it's Palpatine… the Chancellor is… is the Sith…."

"I see."

Anakin flinched as a brilliant yellow lightsabre leaped to life, as Quinlan turned away and strode back out into the battle.

There were no tears left, no outlet for the unbearable agony that was a crushing weight on his chest. It made it so hard to breathe…. Striving to sit up, Anakin frantically gasped for air, a fearful whimper escaping him when he found none. The room lurched before his eyes, and cool stone was abruptly kissing his flushed cheek once again.

---

_He floated: body weightless and yet somehow heavy, a nauseating feeling of vertigo that twisted in his stomach. Images fluttered past his eyes, fading in and out; blurred, surreal, untouchable. The dazzling green of blaster bolts outside traced odd patterns of shadows on the vaulted Temple ceilings; moving, living things that crawled slowly towards Anakin, trying to wrap around his senses yet again. _

_He tried to scream, tried to push them away, but he was tumbling backwards into darkness. Darkness tinged with the scent of pinear trees…._

_'Take your Master Kenobi, for instance… can't imagine him ever soul bonding with another Knight….'_

_'The Council can go to hell, Master Vos; he is in no condition to be making a report to them – '_

_'That is the question you have to ask yourself, my young friend…'_

_'Master Unduli, I wouldn't ask this of you if it wasn't of utmost importance. The Council must see the boy right now.'_

_'Obi-Wan, you at least should take some rest –'_

_'I'll be fine.'_

_---_

Anakin groaned softly, blinking as he opened his eyes. Instantly, panic filled him. Where was he? What was going on? Was Obi-Wan all right? There had been shadows, shadows moving in the darkness. The trees –

"Steady, young one," a gruff voice chided him, as steadying arms guided him from where he had slumped on the floor.

Anakin breathed out slowly, pressing one hand over his eyes and shaking his head to try to clear it. His heart ached, the dragon that lay inside of him rattling at the bars of its cage. He pressed one hand against his chest reflexively, trying to soothe the pain, and startled when his hand met a bacta- and blood-soaked bandage. That was the pain. The pain from his wound. The dragon was gone.

For the moment, at least.

Master Luminara was staring at him, Anakin could feel her eyes. Watching, assessing. He forced a smile as he gently pushed her arms away, He could stand on his own. But when he turned away from her support, the sight that met his eyes almost made his knees buckle again.

Quinlan stood a few feet away, an unreadable expression on his face. Anakin had always felt uneasy around the Jedi Knight. It was too hard to determine his thoughts from his face – it was something about the tattoo that underlined his eyes. It was distracting, pulling Anakin's focus away from those dark eyes which might otherwise give a clue to the Jedi Knight's emotions.

But he wasn't able to look at Quinlan for long. Standing next to the taller Jedi Knight was Obi-Wan, his arm thrown over Master Vos' shoulders for support. Anakin saw the blood on his Master's robes, the makeshift bandage bound tightly around Obi-Wan's right arm, already soaked with red, the sleeve of his tunic torn away.

_My fault_.

Anakin reached out along their training bond, trying to touch Obi-Wan's mind, to see if his Master was all right as he claimed.

But his questing thoughts met only emptiness. The absence made him stagger backwards, until Luminara caught him again and bore him up. The training bond was gone. Obi-Wan had broken their bond. It was something that should have been dissolved two years ago, on the day that Anakin had become a Knight, but Obi-Wan had wanted to keep it, to remain close to Anakin. United in mind as well as in body.

Now Obi-Wan wouldn't even look at him.

"Master – " he began haltingly, forcing the syllables past the tears that bound his throat.

"The Council is expecting us." Obi-Wan broke in swiftly, raising tired eyes. They passed over Anakin blankly, as though he wasn't standing there, to settle on Master Luminara. "We must be swift."

----

Anakin sat numbly on his bed, staring fixedly at his hands, lying limp on his lap. The mattress was uncomfortable, new… different. Just like the room itself – sterile, lacking any indications of his personality. Jedi were forbidden possessions, of course, but after thirteen years of living in one room, a Force-signature became imprinted on everyday objects.

These rooms were completely empty of _his_ personality, which was jarring enough, but the even more glaring absence was that of Obi-Wan's signature. His new apartments were devoid of even that vaguely comforting glow.

New apartments. A new room in a different wing of the Temple. It was the wing for young Knights who had no attachments; those with no Padawan, no partner, and no soul mate.

The Council meeting could have been worse, Anakin supposed. After all, he hadn't been expelled from the Jedi Order. That was about the only thing that had gone in his favour.

Mace had wanted to kick him out right away, of course, had thundered and growled and bitched _on and on_ about the Dark Side and the Sith, until Obi-Wan had quietly interrupted him.

Anakin closed his eyes tightly; pressing his palms over his face at the memory of that Council meeting, the insistence in his Master's cultured voice.

_"It was Anakin who alerted me to the invasion Force, Mace. He's the one who discovered that Palpatine is the Sith Lord, Sidious."_

_And those calculating dark eyes turned his way, appraising him, filtering through his thoughts. Anakin was too weak to bother throwing up his shields to protect himself from the invasion. He was barely strong enough to keep standing at Obi-Wan's shoulder, wanting instead to collapse onto the floor of the Council Chambers and fade into oblivion. _

_He was just so damn _tired_ of it all. _

_"We all felt the ripples in the Force, Master Kenobi. We felt Skywalker's turn."_

_"Whatever may have transpired between Anakin and Palpatine, I assure you, he is not a Sith." Obi-Wan countered softly, looking to Yoda, who nodded slowly, in silence. _

_"He nearly killed himself trying to rescue Obi-Wan. The kid saved his life. I've never seen anyone fight like that before." Quinlan added gruffly, his eyes fixed on Master Windu. _

_Anakin was only dimly aware that they were talking about him, deciding his fate. He couldn't bring himself to return the approving smile that Quinlan shot in his direction. He couldn't do anything more than stare desperately at Obi-Wan, silently begging his Master to turn and just _acknowledge _him. A word, a smile, a touch…even if it was nothing more than a glower, it would be enough. Because it would be _something

_"Pushed back the shadow in his mind, young Skywalker has. Proved himself worthy of his rank, he has. But discuss this now, we must _not_. More important things at stake, there are."_

_"Agreed. If Palpatine really is the Sith we've been looking for, then we have to strike now."_

When Obi-Wan had insisted on leading the team against Palpatine, Anakin had finally collapsed, one hand clenching at his heart as the dragon of fear screamed inside of him. An endless mantra: _no no no no no!_ He had felt Luminara's hands on him, trying to soothe him with the Force, but he had shielded her attempts easily, the sole focus of his attention the silent Jedi Master who _still would not look at him!_

"Obi-Wan, _please_, don't…don't –"

"It's Master Kenobi, if you would," his Master had replied sharply, eyes sliding blindly over Anakin to rest on Luminara for a moment, "and what I do is no concern of yours."

And everything had crumbled.

Anakin could _feel_ it. He could feel the cloud of aggression and hatred and determination that was billowing out from the Senatorial Apartments. If he listened to the whispers of the Force, he could detect the hum and clash of lightsabres colliding, the increased pulses of the combatants. The concentration, the _focus_.

_Force keep him safe. _He breathed the prayer into the undulating web of energy, feeling the first tears slip from beneath his closed eyelids. _Even if he doesn't love me, doesn't want me, doesn't need me, keep him safe. _

With that final thought, Anakin sagged backwards onto his new mattress in his new room, and quietly cried himself to sleep.

---

You knew the angst had to hit eventually, didn't you? This is an Xtine fic after all. Fear not, I've been sworn to a happy ending. haha.

Cheerio,

XtP


	7. Anakin is 25 Years Old part 1

**Omg! Is it an update? Yes indeedy, I do believe it is. (grins) I hope you enjoy it. **

**Hyypchick, this chapter is for you! Thank you so much for finding those books for me, I really do appreciate it. **

**Thanks go as always to my wonderful beta Temple Mistress, without whom this chapter would not exist. Loves to my twinny!**

**Personal messages at the end of the chapter -- yes, I actually wrote them this time! Thank you again for reading and reviewing! Just so you know, chapters 8 (this one) and 9 (coming soon)are part one and two of the same night. But 8 was 12 pages, and 9 was 16pgs _before_ editing... so it would have been too long to post in one installment. Ergo... cliffie. I'm sorry. (innocent smile). **

**XtP**

* * *

**VIII – Anakin is 25 years old**. 

It was Solstice Night in the Jedi Temple. Every room was decked out for the holidays, with sparkling lights and garlands and greenery wrapped around every column. Younglings and Padawans made decorations for their Masters and friends, or cavorted in the snow on the Temple's balconies and roof.

His room was bare this year, as it had been the year before, and the year before that. He didn't feel the need to buy decorations or put up festive lights. It wasn't a very festive time of year for him. Not any more. He didn't even bother buying a _pinear_ tree. He hadn't done so for the past three years, not since….

Anakin's mind shied away skittishly from the memory. Even thinking about what he had almost done – who he had almost _become_ – on that Solstice Night made Anakin's stomach lurch, the room spin violently, and his head throb. It hurt, pulling back from the edge of the Dark Side.

He had touched it for that one night, had let its cruel siren song whisper through his mind and heart. He had almost lost himself within it, allowing Vader to dominate him. The idea that he had done so willingly nauseated Anakin completely. In a way, he was glad for the pain of the memory; it was a constant reminder and warning. He would never lose himself in the darkness again.

Anakin knew that he would never _fully_ be rid of it any more, now that it had marked him as its own. He wanted to blame Palpatine, wanted to say that he had been deceived, had been coerced into becoming a Sith apprentice against his will. But Anakin no longer had the strength to make that lie convincing. It had been a matter of choice. He had chosen to turn away from the light, and he would have to live with that decision.

He just hadn't expected it to be so hard.

Every day was a struggle, to wake, to move. To walk through the Temple hallways past the young Padawans and venerable old Masters, their light casting the darkness in his soul into sharp contrast. For weeks afterwards, Anakin had refused to leave his rooms at all, feeling as though he had been tainted; as though anything he touched would be irreparably darkened by the stain on his soul.

Eventually he stopped leaving his rooms, wanting to retreat into himself. He couldn't take the sidelong looks, the naked curiosity in the eyes of the other Jedi in the Temple. He hated the way conversations stopped as soon as he approached, and resumed with increased vehemence in his wake.

Very few people in the Temple knew what had really happened on that Solstice Night. The Council, of course, and Healer Master Luminara along with her Padawan, Barriss – anyone who had been directly involved in the whole sordid ordeal. Obi-Wan knew, and Quinlan Vos.

For the rest of the Jedi, there was nothing more than rumour and speculation. There were the mistaken notions that Anakin had somehow saved the Temple and the Jedi from destruction, fed by younglings who regarded him with wide-eyed hero worship. Then there were the older Knights and Masters, who knew that there was something more sinister in Anakin's role: nothing less would have broken up the famous team of Skywalker-Kenobi.

Anakin didn't know if it was worse trying to associate with those who knew nothing of his brush with the Dark Side, and who constantly angled for details, or those who knew too much. The ones who grew stiff and formal when speaking to Anakin, instinctively guarding themselves against him.

Anakin had stopped going to the infirmary even before his wounds had fully healed, preferring to endure the physical pain than face the contempt of his Healer. He and Barriss had never gotten along, but now she was even colder and more abrupt with him. Anakin knew that she would never forgive him for turning to the darkness. Why should she? _He_ hadn't even managed to forgive_ himself_.

He had never been close with any members of the Council; their opinion of him seemed to range between indifference and outright hostility. In that respect, nothing had changed. They continued to ignore him, and Anakin continued to avoid them whenever possible.

Obi-Wan was determined to act as though Anakin had never existed.

Quinlan had been the only one able to help him, having suffered the same experience, and to a greater degree. Quinlan had been deceived by the Sith as well, and had fallen from the Light. Anakin knew that much, but was ignorant of the details of Quinlan's brush with the Dark Side. Like his own experience, it was something known by very few Jedi.

To be honest, Anakin didn't want to know what had happened to Quinlan. It was enough to know that they had both suffered; neither one wanted to revisit painful memories. They never talked about Dark Side, by an unspoken accord. But there wasn't the tension between them that Anakin felt with everyone else, a result of their similar experiences. There was no judgement in his eyes when he spoke to Anakin as a result, no contempt or pity. That was unusual enough that Anakin had let down his rigid barriers, and had gained a friend who he trusted implicitly. A friend who was determined not to let Anakin retreat from Temple life.

Quinlan had brought meals to Anakin's room every day, had forcibly dragged the lethargic Jedi Knight out of bed and pushed him into the 'fresher every morning. He had threatened and argued and forced Anakin out of his rooms day after day.

And he had had the grace not to call Anakin an idiot when, every day, he would hear the same whispered plea:

_"Is he coming to see me?"_

There was no need to ask who 'he' was. And there was no need for an answer. Quinlan would just watch Anakin silently for a moment after the desperate question had been choked out. Then he would sigh quietly, and encourage Anakin to eat his breakfast.

Obi-Wan wouldn't come to see Anakin. He didn't want to have anything to do with Anakin any more.

That was the worst memory of that night, the one that still woke Anakin from his sleep, making him sob and clutch blindly at his pillow. The memory of Obi-Wan's eyes. How they had faded from piercing blue, filled with excitement and joy and _love_… to dull grey. Hurt, bewildered, betrayed.

They hadn't spoken since. Anakin had tried at first of course, because everything he had felt, everything he had suffered since dragging himself back into the Light, would have been bearable if he had Obi-Wan at his side. He knew the nightmares that made him wake screaming every night would fade at the touch of Obi-Wan's hand, the strength of those arms holding him. The sibilant echoes of Palpatine's words in his mind would fade if he heard Obi-Wan's voice, low and elegant, whispering soothing words in his ear.

The dragon was gone from his heart, he had beaten it when he had broken through the cold façade of Vader. But the fear was still there, the fear of being left alone forever. It was tempered now by resignation. His solitude was self-inflicted, and completely deserved, in Anakin's mind.

All the same, Anakin wanted to feel safe again, something that had been denied to him for the past three years. Neither Sith nor Jedi, he was something in between, some combination of the two that belonged… nowhere. To no one. Anakin didn't know how to get back to who he had been before, but with the gaping hole left in his heart from Obi-Wan's indifference, he didn't know how to heal and move on either. Obi-Wan was the only one who had ever known _who_ Anakin was, the only one Anakin had ever trusted enough to let into his mind and spirit.

But more than anything else, he wanted to repair the shattered bond between himself and Obi-Wan. Not for his own sake, but to erase that sad, haunted look in his former Master's eyes. Anakin knew he didn't deserve to be at peace: not now, not ever. But once again he had managed to injure Obi-Wan, and this time it wasn't from failing to guard his Master's back. It had been he who had inflicted the wound, and that hurt far more than the claws of the Dark Side that still tore at his soul.

It was unforgivable.

And this time Master Luminara could not do anything to help heal the man that Anakin loved.

So he had approached Obi-Wan at every opportunity that presented itself. He had gone out of his way to match his predictable former Master's schedule, anxious for a moment to explain, to make Obi-Wan understand. To take that terrible, blank look out of Obi-Wan's eyes and somehow bridge the rift between them.

But he had been ignored at every turn. Obi-Wan's eyes would glide over him as though he were less substantial than a Force-ghost.

And Anakin had stopped trying.

He had started requesting more missions instead, despite the urgings of the Council that he take a Padawan Learner. Anakin suspected it was the meddlesome troll who had suggested it initially, as though a youngling could somehow heal his soul. Only Yoda would trust Anakin to train a Padawan now; he knew that none of the other Council members would want him near the promising younglings.

In this case, Anakin knew that the other Jedi Masters were right. He would never train a child; he wouldn't risk infecting a young mind with the poison in his soul. Besides, it would bind him too closely to the Temple. And now that Obi-Wan had been promoted to the rank of Master and awarded a seat on the Council, the farther away Anakin could get from the Temple, the better.

It helped him to forget.

He could forget the anguish that had torn at his heart when Obi-Wan had been brought back to the Temple on an anti-grav stretcher the night that Palpatine had been killed. His skin had been so pale, his lips tinged with blue. Anakin had dashed from his rooms to the Entrance Hall, had tried to reach his fallen Master and touch his hand, but had been pushed back by a stern Master Fisto.

He could forget seeing his Master suspended in a bacta tank, the only noises in the room the mechanical whirring and bleeping of machines monitoring the Jedi's vitals, and the sound of Anakin's breathing. Obi-Wan had looked so weak, so _helpless_ in there, so far away. Anakin had hated being in the infirmary as a result; hated seeing what Palpatine had done to the man he loved. He hated the knowledge that it was at least partly his fault.

But as long as his Master was injured and unconscious, Anakin could stay close by his side. And desperate to stay as close to Obi-Wan as he possibly could, he would endure the guilt and pain that seeing Obi-Wan battered and broken gave him.

So he pretended, made believe that they had just come back from a mission together. Anakin knew that if he closed his eyes, he would feel again the warmth of Obi-Wan's skin, the sound of his heartbeat like muted thunder, the taste of his lips…. He knew that those simple, intense moments of sensation that he had so long taken for granted would be denied to him ever after.

And yet, he had always come back day after day, neither sleeping nor eating, until Barriss had finally thrown him out. She knew that Anakin would be unwelcome once Obi-Wan awoke, just as he knew it himself.

Anakin could forget the solemn look on Obi-Wan's face as he was honoured by the Jedi Grandmasters as the only Knight in living memory to have killed not one, but _two_ Sith Lords. How magnificent Obi-Wan had looked in that moment, clad entirely in white, his eyes glowing in the sunlight that slanted into the Temple. A vision of the Force, as brilliant as the stars. Anakin hadn't been able to watch him for long – like staring at the sun, the sight of Obi-Wan would burn him, blind him.

Anakin could even forget the sad, sad smile that had curved his Master's lips for the briefest of instants when, on the day he had been elevated to the Council, Yoda had fondly said that Master Qui-Gon would have been proud of his apprentice.

Of course, Master Jinn would have been proud of Obi-Wan; he was brave, strong, serene… _complete_. Everything that Anakin was not. Anakin knew that Qui-Gon would have been severely disappointed, had he lived to see his youngest apprentice fall into twilight.

But what he wanted to forget the most, what he ran from, what he tried to escape with every dangerous mission that he undertook, was the day that he had sat on the Council in Master Vos' place. The day that he had seen Obi-Wan smile fully again.

A smile that had been directed at his _new_ Padawan.

The girl was quiet, strong with the Force, with big dark eyes that had seemed to take everything in at once. And Obi-Wan had smiled fondly at her and ruffled her hair absently, his eyes a warm blue. And Anakin had instantly hated her. He hated her for being able to heal Obi-Wan's heart when Anakin was completely shut out. That she could be so close to the man he loved more than _anything,_ when Anakin had been completely cut out of Obi-Wan's life. Ignored, denied, and forgotten, Anakin was utterly erased from Obi-Wan's mind, from his heart, from his _life_.

Anakin hated the girl for that, for taking Obi-Wan from him. And he despised her all the more for the knowledge that she hadn't done anything. She hadn't made Obi-Wan leave him; Anakin had done that well enough on his own. He knew _exactly_ where the fault lay, and it wasn't with an innocent young girl

He wondered sometimes if that was how Obi-Wan had felt on first being confronted with Anakin: this odd mix of jealousy, anger, and disdain, coupled with the guilty knowledge that the emotions were completely irrational. If it was, then Anakin marvelled at the fact that Obi-Wan had ever managed to be so much as _civil_ to him.

It didn't help that the little brat seemed absolutely _fascinated_ by him. Anakin knew that he had a reputation among the Padawans – the combination of his black attire, dark past, and his propensity for the most dangerous missions made him somewhat of an icon among the younglings. It made Anakin sigh.

Once he would have found being idolized a very appealing prospect. He would have regaled his following with exaggerated tales of battles and dangers, escapes and rescues. He would have shown off for them, entertained them; revelling in their regard as though it could soothe the inadequacies he felt when faced with his Master's cool, measuring gaze.

Now, everything had changed. He wasn't proud of his exploits; he didn't take on impossible tasks to show off. He just wanted to forget his lonely existence back in the Temple. When once he would have boasted of his scars and dangerous missions, now he only pitied the younglings all the hardships they had ahead.

It would have been nice to be hero-worshipped amongst the younglings, as he had once been an ardent fan of the young Knight Kenobi. It would have given them one more thing in common. Ironic that such fame should come to him now that he wanted nothing more than to be left the hell alone.

He only wanted the attention of one person, after all….

Anakin had tried, of course. Tried to find someone else who would fill in the vast chasm in his heart, the painful sense of emptiness that Obi-Wan had left behind.

There had been one night, on one mission. Some Force-forsaken planet on the farthest reaches of the galaxy, where he had been sent by the Council. It had been a hellish mission. He had been captured, beaten, and tortured before managing to escape to rendezvous with his contact on the planet. Then the rebels he was supposed to protect, had tried to protect for five weeks, had been betrayed and murdered by one of their own... by the very contact that Anakin had lead to them. The families were slaughtered, the city destroyed by an air strike that no one had anticipated.

The only survivor of the attack, Anakin had been stranded for two weeks in the rubble of a former hospital, with little food and no shelter. Two weeks in the pounding, incessant rain, as the imperial army marched on the city, killing everyone in their path. Two weeks of waiting to die, knowing the blood of the slaughtered rebel fighters was on his hands.

Two weeks, until the Jedi Council had sent someone to pull him out.

_Anakin opened his eyes slowly, hearing the sound of the ship's engines dying down, and the repulsors firing as it came in to land. He had half-expected it to be one of the empress' Imperial star-fighters, coming to take him away. He had experienced firsthand the kind of tortures he could expect in her dungeons…and she had been _gentle_ with him the first time, trying to discover the location of the rebel base. There was no reason for her to be so tender anymore. The memory made Anakin ignite his lightsabre and stagger to his feet. He would die before he allowed himself to be captured again, and he would take as many of her soldiers with him as he could. It didn't matter anyways. Nothing mattered. He had failed this mission, had managed to destroy the cause he was supposed to protect. Even day after day of endless _fucking_ rain hadn't managed to wash the bloodstains from his soul. His own death would be a fitting end to a miserable mission. He would die a Jedi Knight, if nothing else. There was nothing left at the Temple for him anyways. _

_But then the markings on the ship registered with his tired brain; the distinctive design of a Republic cruiser. _

_A Jedi ship. _

_Anakin sagged with relief, stumbling forwards across the uneven ground as the ramp descended, because Obi-Wan had found him again. Obi-Wan was here and he would sweep his exhausted younger partner into his arms and kiss away the past eight weeks of hell that Anakin had endured…._

_But it wasn't Obi-Wan's worried face that greeted him. Of course it wasn't; he and Obi-Wan hadn't been partners for almost three years now. _

_"I should have known I would have to pull your ass out of this one."_

_Anakin forced a smile as Quinlan clapped him on the shoulder and helped him onto the ship. He was weak and shaky from the exertions of the mission – starvation, torture, pitched battle, all in the endless rain. _

_The rain reminded him unpleasantly of Jabiim; Obi-Wan hadn't been there with him on that mission either. Anakin could still remember the numbing horror that had suffused his heart on seeing the AT-AT walker, where Obi-Wan was, explode in a ball of flame and scraps of twisted metal. _

_But he had been able to cling to irrational hope, no matter how faint, that he would see his Master again. Against the counselling of all other Jedi, he had insisted that Obi-Wan was alive. He could just _feel _it. _

_It was bitterly ironic; Anakin had been happier when Obi-Wan had been presumed dead, because of his own belief that everything would be all right. Now, _knowing _that his Master was alive, Anakin felt as though a knife was being twisted in his heart. Because Obi-Wan was alive and well, and wanted nothing to do with Anakin at all. _

_Anakin wasn't sure why he did it, why he suddenly turned and pulled Quinlan close against him, sweeping his hands up the older Jedi's back. He didn't know why he pressed his lips desperately against Quinlan's, what it was that made him _need _to taste, to touch and _be _touched. He didn't want to be alone any more, he didn't want to hurt, didn't want to have to think any longer. _

_But when Quinlan shoved him back roughly against the wall, tongue forcing entry into Anakin's mouth, grinding his hips against Anakin's, it was like something finally broke inside of him. He started to cry, even as his hands rose to tangle in Quinlan's hair, as their kiss deepened in intensity and passion. _

_It was Quinlan who broke it off, placing his hands flat on Anakin's shoulders and pulling back. _

_"N-no…" Anakin whimpered, leaning forward again, but Quinlan held him off easily. His dark eyes were kind, but Anakin thought he could hear a melancholy tinge of regret in the Jedi Master's low voice. _

_"I'm not him, Anakin. No matter how much you may want me to be. I'm. Not. Him."_

_Anakin shook his head roughly, trying to push back the ache that permeated his body, the bone-deep weariness coupled with over-bearing despair. Obi-Wan would never come back to him. That was what Quinlan had been trying to tell him for the past three years. _

_He had never been able to accept it before. But Obi-Wan wouldn't have let anyone else rescue Anakin if he still cared. If there was still a chance. _

_It really was over. _

Anakin took a deep breath, coming back to the present moment with a rush of shame at the memory of his clumsy attempt at seduction. Quinlan had pulled him back into his arms and just hugged him. Even though Anakin was soaked through, covered with mud, and was bleeding from a dozen different wounds, even though Anakin had just made a complete ass out of himself, Quinlan had held him until he stopped crying. Then the Kiffar Jedi had laughed fondly, ruffled Anakin's hair as though he were a Padawan again, and pushed Anakin towards the 'fresher.

Anakin remembered standing in the tiled stall, head downcast, numbly watching the water-diluted mud and blood swirling around the drain. Too exhausted mentally and physically to support his weight, he had slowly slipped to the floor, hugging his knees tightly against his chest. There were no tears; he had cried himself out in Quinlan's arms. But there was still the aching, empty sensation of utter failure, the knowledge that _he_ should have been the one to die, not the rebels he had been assigned to protect. But the fervent wish that his life could have been taken instead wasn't motivated by altruism: Anakin wished he had died because he no longer cared about living.

And that made him even more of a failure as a Jedi.

That had been his last mission. He had been grounded in the Temple for nearly three weeks, forced by the Council to see a 'soul healer'. He didn't need a fucking soul healer. He needed a word, a look, a _something_ from Obi-Wan. Because without it, he was dying by slow, painful degrees, the shattered pieces of his heart pounded into dust as he battered at the cold wall of Obi-Wan's indifference.

He longed for a blaster bolt to reunite him with the Force. It would be a swifter end, a nobler end. And it would be infinitely less painful.

Not that he could tell the Council _that._

Now his every step seemed to be dogged by Obi-Wan's Padawan, Anakin's _replacement_. His Master's new protégé. She was there when Anakin practised in the training rooms, sitting sombrely in one corner, knees drawn up against her chest. She was there in the classes he was obliged to teach to this next generation of Jedi Knights – everything from politics (making no secret of his distaste for that topic, much to his pupils' delight), to the tactics of space battles, fighter against fighter. She was there in the dining hall, her eyes dark as she caught his gaze for a moment across the room, and she was there in the Temple gardens as he meditated in the evenings.

But she never spoke to him, only observed in silence. Privately, Anakin wondered what manner of horror stories Obi-Wan had told the girl about his former apprentice that would warrant such attention. He worried about this apparent fascination with him: if Obi-Wan knew, or if the topic of his former Padawan was completely forbidden.

Either way, it made him feel even more paranoid than he had when rumours had been flying through the Temple three years ago. It wasn't enough that Obi-Wan ignored him utterly, but now his protégé had to scrutinize him as though he were a display in some _kriffing_ museum? It irritated him, which made it very hard to be objective in the classes he was obliged to teach. He graded her more harshly than he should have: a fact that he wasn't proud of, but didn't repent.

The girl was smart, incredibly well versed in politics and negotiation for a 14 year old – she certainly knew more than Anakin did on the subject. In a way, she reminded him of Jamilla Amidala, from what he could remember of that Nubian princess. She had only been 14 as well, the last time Anakin had seen her. They had the same air about them, the same mannerisms.

Anakin remembered with a faint scowl that Obi-Wan and Jamilla had gotten on remarkably well. No wonder this… this Padawan Naberrie was such a _perfect_ pupil for his former Master. She was quiet and thoughtful and down-to-earth… and although she was capable in combat, it was clear that her preference lay in negotiating. Diplomacy over aggression. Anakin often thought with a mental sneer that the kid would have been better off as a Senator than as Jedi.

Anakin sighed, leaning forward to rest his chin in his hands. He still wasn't used to this new room that he'd been assigned. He spent more time across the galaxy than home at the Temple nowadays, after all. Anakin supposed he couldn't even consider this miserable little room as "home". He didn't even spend enough time in the small set of apartments for his Force signature to become imprinted on the walls. If he never came back, this room would be unrecognizable from a hundred other empty apartments in the Temple. He didn't even have any personal possessions to set out on the bland, standardized furniture, nothing to identify the room as _his_.

Nothing aside from the one holograph that Anakin kept face down on the small bedside table. It was a holo of the famous Jedi Team Kenobi-Skywalker, taken after some mission or another. He was grinning cheerfully at the camera, in sharp contrast to Obi-Wan's bemused half-smile. Anakin's arm was thrown casually over the older Jedi's shoulder, forcing his reluctant partner to stay still so that the reporter could take the picture. They had been a team, had been more than partners, more than brothers, once upon a time.

No more.

Anakin kept the holograph face-down because it still pained him to remember the past. There was no emotion quite like regret, and he regretted so much. The picture only reminded him of everything he had lost. But he couldn't bring himself to discard it, or to even shut it away in a drawer to safely forget.

No, this place, these rooms would never really belong to him, because even the Temple had ceased to be home. Home was a comforting warmth, a place to feel safe and secure and loved. _Home_, to Anakin, was a person, rather than a place.

It had been a long time since he'd been home.

A chime on his door made Anakin glance up in consternation. Shooting a quick glance at the chrono mounted on his wall, he frowned slightly. It was early yet, too early for Quinlan to have decided that what Anakin _really_ needed was to go out and get drunk. That usually didn't happen until 2100 by the chrono – Quinlan was becoming predictable.

The fact that he always knew Anakin would be in his room indicated that Anakin was also getting stuck in a routine.

Without rising, Anakin waved one hand irritably, allowing the door to slide open as he went back to considering his data pad. His political theory students had submitted their reports earlier in the week, and he _still_ hadn't gotten around to grading them.

Obi-Wan had always procrastinated on marking assignments as well, Anakin remembered with a melancholy smile. He had inherited his Master's distaste for giving out homework, when life experience would teach far more than books….

"Master Skywalker, sir…?"

The voice, young and _female_, made Anakin start in surprise, jumping up from his small couch. He quickly schooled his face into impassivity, trying to hide his distaste of the young Padawan who hesitated in the doorway.

Padawan Naberrie. Anakin stifled a groan. This was _not_ what he needed tonight. Solstice Night traditionally involved getting piss-drunk with Quinlan to forget Obi-Wan; Anakin didn't need the memory of all he had lost rubbed in his face by this girl, his _replacement_.

"I haven't finished marking the papers yet, Padawan, so there's no use asking me what grade you've received," he snapped irritably, standing awkwardly by the couch. He didn't want this girl invading his privacy, trying to worm her way into his life. He didn't want to like her; he didn't want to_ be_ liked. Sith knew he just wanted to be left in peace. Not that that was likely to happen anymore, between Quinlan's insistences that Anakin should get out and have _fun_, to this Padawan ghosting his footsteps, to Obi-Wan _fucking _Kenobi haunting his thoughts day and night.

"No… no Master Skywalker, I wasn't…."

"Then what do you want?" Anakin cringed inwardly at his tone. It was hard not to take out his anger on the girl, but really she had never done anything to him. Aside from replacing Anakin in Obi-Wan's heart, but that wasn't exactly her fault. Anakin knew full well whose fault it was.

"I… I saw you sparring with Master Vos yesterday evening, and… and I've been having some trouble with the third form of the eighth kata, and I was wondering… if you weren't busy….?"

"That's your Master's affair, not mine." Anakin replied blandly, turning away and sifting idly through the stack of data pads on the small table, acting as though he was busy.

"He's in a Council Meeting."

Anakin raised one eyebrow in faint surprise. Why in the Sith was Obi-Wan attending to Council duties tonight of all nights? He never worked on the Solstice; no Master who had a Padawan or a partner ever did. When he and Anakin had been together, Obi-Wan had never missed a single holiday, so….

_Oh. _

Anakin felt a wave of remorse as he turned back to the girl, seeing the way her shoulders hunched slightly, the way she toed the carpet and stared firmly down at the ground as though it was the most interesting thing in the world. He realized that this probably wasn't the first time that Obi-Wan had made work for himself on the Solstice, to try to block out the memories of his last Padawan… and what that Padawan had become on this night four years ago. Whether this girl knew what had happened between Anakin and her Master or not, she had certainly suffered as a result of that night.

Anakin started to say something, hesitated, and sighed in frustration. Why should he care if he hurt her feelings? She was a child; she would get over it. He owed nothing to this girl, nor to her Master, so she could kindly get the hell out of his life and stop bothering him.

Anakin opened his mouth to tell her as much, dimly aware that he would sound like a petulant youngling, when Padawan Naberrie abruptly straightened. Squaring her shoulders, she tilted her chin up imperiously to look Anakin right in the eye.

"I know you don't like me, Master Skywalker," the young girl said calmly, sounding much more mature than her fourteen years as she tilted her head to one side to study him. "I know you were Master Obi-Wan's last Padawan, and that I can never live up to your reputation. He-He doesn't say that, of course, but I can tell that I'm a disappointment to him in a lot of things." She bowed her head slightly as she spoke, but her words weren't bitter, merely resigned. Somehow that was worse. Anakin felt his hands clench into fists; he knew what it was like to feel unable to live up to one who had come before. Hadn't he always felt that way about Qui-Gon?

The young Padawan, not noticing his agitation, continued in the same soft voice. "So… I don't know why you hate me… if it's because of me, or because of my Master, but I was hoping I could make amends somehow –"

'_I know that you never wanted me. I know that you resent me. But I just thought that for one day this year, you could at least act like you cared…' _

Anakin gaped silently at her, hearing the echo of his own words to Obi-Wan eleven years ago – Force, had it really been that long? Had he ever been as young as this girl who was staring at him so intensely?

"Padawan Naberrie, I…" no, that wasn't right. Searching his memory desperately, Anakin took a deep breath and started again. "Padmé. Come in," he gestured absently, setting the data pads aside. "If I move this table, there ought to be enough room in here to run through the eighth kata. Then we won't be disturbing the younglings celebrating in the training rooms."

Her face burst into a wide smile, and she rushed over to move the chair out of the way and help push the couch back to clear a large enough space for the two of them. As she passed, Anakin put a hand on her shoulder, stopping the girl momentarily.

"I don't hate you, Padmé," he said quietly. _I did. And I know you know that as well and I'm sorry. _Anakin smiled tentatively, hoping that she would understand his unspoken apology.

She shot him a grin over her shoulder, tossed her head so that her braid flipped back over her shoulder, and settling into the meditative initial stance of the eighth kata. With a rueful smile, wondering how he had gotten himself into this, Anakin walked over to join her.

Time passed in a blur of activity; Anakin watching her run through the form again and again, correcting her stance here, changing the angle of her attack there, going through the kata together side by side until she was as fluid in the motions as he was.

Anakin realized suddenly that he was smiling, that he was – for the first time in far too many years – actually enjoying himself. Was this what it was like, having a Padawan? Even without a training bond connecting them, Anakin could feel an echo of her movements in his body as they ran through the kata in tandem, could sense her emotions – frustration, determination, happiness – as though they were his own. And his own feelings were just as complex and new: the odd warmth that enveloped his heart, the thrill of pride that ran through him as she painstakingly corrected her errors and mastered each new challenge. The comforting smile and encouraging hand on her shoulder when a mistake was made, and then the elation when the difficulty was overcome. Was that what having a Padawan was supposed to be like? Had Obi-Wan felt this way when training Anakin?

The chime on the door caught them both by surprise. Anakin glanced over at the chrono, shocked to see that they had been working for over three hours. It wouldn't be Quinlan at the door. Even though the time had long come and gone for the Knight to make his usual nightly visit, Quinlan never bothered to ring the chime. He always just came striding right in, confident that Anakin wouldn't be doing anything more interesting than what Master Vos had up his sleeve.

Anakin motioned for Padmé to continue practising the form, laughing at the mock-exhausted face she pulled as he palmed the opening mechanism, turned as the door whooshed open….

And found himself face-to-face with Obi-Wan.

_-----_

_You tell me you don't love me over a cup of coffee  
And I just have to look away  
A million miles between us  
Planets crashing to dust  
I just let it fade away _

I'm walking empty streets hoping we might meet  
I see your car parked on the road  
The light on at your window  
I know for sure that you're home  
But I just have to pass on by

So no of course we can't be friends  
Not while I'm still this obsessed  
I guess I always knew the score  
This is how our story ends

I smoke your brand of cigarettes  
And pray that you might give me a call  
I lie around in bed all day just staring at the walls  
Hanging round bars at night wishing I had never been born  
And give myself to anyone who wants to take me home

So no of course we can't be friends  
Not while I still feel like this  
I guess I always knew the score  
This is where our story ends

You left behind some clothes  
My belly summersaults when I pick them off the floor  
My friends all say they're worried  
I'm looking far too skinny  
I've stopped returning all their calls

And no of course we can't be friends  
Not while I'm still so obsessed  
I want to ask where I went wrong  
But don't say anything at all

It took a cup of coffee  
To prove that you don't love me.

_("Cup of Coffee", Garbage)_

* * *

**_Review Replies!_**

**Queen Cria - **Thank you for the review, but come on! Don't sell yourself short, all right? I hope that you liked the chapter!

**Vee017 - **Yay! You got it in one! Hence the reason why Obi-Wan is being such an ass in this. And I think that you need to write an Anakin version of that song... and then Paint!Jedi-ify it. That would just be too cool. Someday, will we see Paint!Palpsy? You know how much I love that evil old Sithy Lord. hahahaha. Thanks for the review!

**AlchemyDream -** SISTER! I love getting reviews from you, you're always so detailed and insightful. I swear, you see things in my stories that I didn't even consider. It makes me feel a lot smarter than I am. Haha. (wink) The Stover reference was deliberate, as I knew that anyone who had read the book would instnatly pick up on where the chapter was headed as a result. And it was too good a metaphor not to recycle. LoL. Dont' worry about taking your time, the review was more than worth the few intervening days. I squeed. Hahah. And I love my new title. "Mistress of Latent Drama" indeed. That's going to be my new MSN name.

**Darthlord325 --** Thank you very much for the comment! I am really starting to get into this story... every time I think I've figured out how many chapters it will be, a new bunny crops up in my head. Yes, Obi-Wan should have maybe paid closer attention to his love, but Anakin was very good at shielding from him as well. So they're both at fault, I suppose. I personally feel more for Obi-Wan... it's really hard not being able to delve into his pov on these chapters. Haha... maybe someday I'll write a sequel from his side. LoL.

**Phoenix Red Lion -- **LOL, yup, you knew that the angst was coming. I'm sorry that it was so much, but I figured if I'm going for the happy ending, then I have to pull out all the stops while I can, you know? And yes, Obi-Wan's heart would have been completely broken by Anakin's betrayal of his trust. you've seen more of his reaction -- or lack thereof -- to Anakin in this chapter... as for forgiveness, well, you'll just have to wait and see! Your insights for Obi-Wan were completely dead on. Which made me dance, because that means that I've done my job! Obi-Wanwas madly in love with Anakin... he really couldn't do all that more. He trusted Anakin with everything... Anakin held back on his fears. Not a balanced relationship. (grins). Which is so fun to write.

**XxBandGeeksxX --** Well, here you are! I hope that you liked it! Some more angst for you. LoL.

**Lea Nikkaya --** It was sad! (sniffle) And this chapter isnt much better, I'm afriad. But it's an update, which is something. Hope you liked it!

**Laurel Tree --** I am a sucker for the angst. In fact...(sniffles) Monchy and co tease about me writing a happy ending being the equivalent in fandom of hell freezing over, lol. I'm glad that you like it, hahah. And homework, schmomework. Who needs it? I wrote this instead of quickly finishing my last Classics paper of the term. Then edited it instead of reading the Count of Monte Cristo like I told my dad. hahahhahahahaahah. Fandomis more important(grin).

**Jessica The Fair --** Glad you're liking it. I hope that this was soon enough! I'm afriad the next one will take a little longer.

**maddymouse --** You get muchos HEARTS from this Xtine, because it made you cry out loud. I love it. Love hearing that... it's my inner Sith. Thank you very very very much for the comment! And don't worry, my family thinks I'm odd as well.

**Shadow Padawan -- **Like maddy above, you're getting uberhugs for crying at my story. That makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. Perverse, ain't it? (laughs). And yes, tehre will be a happy ending. Eventually. I mean, I have to maintain my rep as Queen of Angst still, you know...

**Padfoot Reincarnated -- **It is possible. hahaha. Even for me, apparently. But there's still a ways to go, and some stuff they need to work through. Thanks for the review!

**PureEvil230 -- **You're right, they do deserve it. Even after all the hell they've gone through together, they still are crazy in love. (sighs at the boyos) I figured I owed them a happy ending after killing them off in so many other stories, you know...

**Monchy -- Yay! **It's your fave so far! I'm glad that you liked it so much! I really enjoyed writing it as well. Vaderkin is so much fun to play with, much like certian other diabolical Sith Lords. I almost cried writing him fighting Obi-Wan though. Lesigh... But GAH and SQUEE! You really know how to stoke my ego. (purrs happily) For me, Obi-Wan was the really tragic figure in this chapter as well. I felt so bad putting him through such hell. And it was really hard not to slip into his side of things, you know? Because mega ouchies and betrayals is right. Anakin broke his little heart. And wait until you find out what he had HAD planned for that Solstice Night, before Anakin went and spoiled it all... (drums fingers a la Monty Burns) Thanks SO much for the review!


	8. Anakin is 25 Years Old part 2

**A/N -- **Yes, the story lives! (laughs). I was going to withhold this until Saturday out of sheer perversity, lol, but I decided to plsy nice. For once. Anyways, I know there are tons of _fabulous_ reviews for the last chapter, and I wanted to reply to each and every one of them... but you've been kept waiting for a month for this chapter, so I'm going to go ahead and upload it now. (grins).

I'ts UBERLONG though, be warned. 23 pages in MS Word, because I can't guarantee when the next installment will make an appearence. LoLs.

Anyways, thank you to everyone who's kind reviews make writing that much more fun. I really appreciate every single one of your comments!

**TM: **This one is for you, lovely. Pure HJL and mush from the _original_ Divas' OTP. (hugs). I love you, twinny!

**Suggested Soundtrack:  
**Fallen, Sarah McLaughlan  
Counting the Stars, Waking Ashland (both of which will be uploaded on LJ when I post this chapter there Saturday.wink)

* * *

**IX – Anakin is 25 years old. **

_"But I, being poor, have only my dreams.  
I spread my dreams under your feet.  
Tread softly, for you tread on my dreams." _

_William Butler Yeates_

Anakin stared at Obi-Wan in silence for a second, memory after memory flooding his system with longing and desire and sadness. Instinctively his body began to sway forwards, craving contact with his former lover, but Anakin held himself firmly in check.

His heart, however, was not so easily mastered. Upon seeing Obi-Wan, it began to ache, to tingle with the faintest beginnings of hope. Had Obi-Wan finally come to see him? What other reason would he have to show up at Anakin's apartment late in the evening? On _this _night of all nights?

Obi-Wan's expression was coldly neutral, displaying so little emotion as his eyes flickered vaguely over Anakin's face that it might as well have been Master Windu standing at the door. But Anakin couldn't contain the spark of pleasure that raced through him at the sight of Obi-Wan, _his_ Obi-Wan, standing at the door on Solstice Night. Finally, they could reconcile. Finally, Obi-Wan would listen to Anakin's apologies and explanations, and they could be together again….

Anakin caught hold of his rampant thoughts before they got too far ahead of him. All the same, hope had mastered his rational mind, and Anakin felt the beginnings of a giddy smile spread across his features as he stared at Obi-Wan.

"Master Obi-Wan!" came a cheerful voice from behind Anakin, breaking the momentary spell and crushing the fragile stirrings of hope into dust. His smile froze, faltered, and fell away completely to be replaced by deep bitterness. _Oh_. Obi-Wan was here for _her. _Of course. How silly of Anakin to think otherwise.

With a tight, forced smile, Anakin stepped aside to let Obi-Wan sweep past him into the apartment, even though his heart cried out at being so near and yet so far away. Anakin closed his eyes as the edge of Obi-Wan's robe brushed against his skin – Anakin had removed his tunic while working out the kata with Padmé – the unintentional touch incredibly sensual.

Unconsciously, Anakin stretched out with the Force, seeking automatically the comfort and warmth of Obi-Wan's Force signature. The presence that had always made him feel comforted and protected and _loved._ Even if their bond was gone, just the sensation of Obi-Wan in the Force could soothe some of Anakin's loneliness.

He staggered slightly, caught off balance when he met _nothing_. Anakin blinked, reaching again for the bright light that he knew was there. Nothing. Not even a muted glow, as Anakin would expect to encounter if Obi-Wan was shielding against him. It was as though Obi-Wan were dead – there was no resonance in the Force around him at all. If Anakin closed his eyes, it would be as though his former Master wasn't even in the room.

Anakin felt sick, realizing that this was another defence against him. Obi-Wan had drawn tightly into himself to avoid any contact whatsoever with his former Padawan.

But how could he manage to form a training bond with Padmé, when he was so tightly shielded? Anakin stole a quick glance at the girl, trying to see if she was as unnerved by the absence in the Force as he was.

But no… the young girl was listening attentively to Obi-Wan, head tilted slightly to one side. Padmé was strong enough in the living Force that she should have noticed the sudden closing off of her training bond with her Master. But by the way she was acting; it was as though there was nothing out of the ordinary going on.

Anakin did not hear what Obi-Wan was saying to his Padawan; he didn't think he could take seeing them together. Not only was there the sense of blind jealousy that hit him when they were together, but now Anakin was plagued by guilt. Padawan Naberrie would never know what it was like to have that unique bond to her Master. All because Anakin had destroyed what trust Obi-Wan had been willing to offer.

Feeling like a coward, Anakin turned away and closed his eyes, traitorous tears rising under his tightly-shut eyelids as he leaned heavily against the kitchen counter. The murmur of Obi-Wan's voice, his distinctive scent… even without the comforting feel of Obi-Wan's Force presence, the combination was enough to make Anakin's heart start to pound. With his eyes closed, he could momentarily pretend that everything was the way it used to be. Anakin could remember those hands, skilful and gentle on his body, that perfect mouth pressed over Anakin's own, the scrape of his beard and the softness of his hair and –

"Master Skywalker?"

Anakin forced his eyes open and plastered a smile on his face immediately at the sound of Padawan Naberrie's voice. "Sorry… yes?"

The young girl looked concerned, staring up at Anakin with a faint frown on her features. Anakin snuck a glance at Obi-Wan, only to find that his former Master – his former lover – was making a point not to look at him. Anakin sighed to himself, tearing his eyes away from the sight of his Master outlined in the gleam of the Coruscanti skyline, focusing on the Padawan once again.

"I just wanted to thank you for helping me with my katas, Master Skywalker."

Anakin smiled at her; a true smile this time, rather than his former forced cheer. She really was a lot like the way he remembered Jamilla Amidala. All that spirit and energy mastered under a deceptively polite composure.

"Call me Anakin, please. And it was my pleasure. Come by any time."

"Thank you Anakin-"

"_Master Skywalker_, Padawan," Obi-Wan cut in sharply, finally seeming to come out of his reverie to look disapprovingly at the girl. Anakin felt a momentary flash of anger heat his cheeks; it wasn't enough that Obi-Wan wouldn't call him by name any more, but now he would enforce Anakin's sense of isolation by pushing strict protocol on his Padawan as well?

"Master Kenobi," Anakin said coolly, awkward on the title when his lips were so used to forming the syllables of Obi-Wan's name, "I really don't mind if the Padawan calls me by name. After all, I'm not her Master." Anakin's hands were clenched tightly on the edge of the counter as he spoke, holding back from flinging himself at Obi-Wan and kissing him or punching him or _something. _Anything to make the Jedi Master acknowledge his existence, anything to break the wall between them.

But he held himself perfectly still, staring in mute plea at Obi-Wan.

"You're quite correct, _Master _Skywalker," Obi-Wan's voice was stiff and cold, echoing his unyielding posture as he flashed a quick glare in Anakin's direction. Anakin could not quite repress the faint shiver that frosty look provoked. "You're _not_ her Master, so I would thank you to allow me to make the decisions when it comes to _my_ Padawan."

Anakin flinched, bowing his head and biting his lip sharply at the unspoken blow. There had been more than just the question of protocol in their exchange. Sith, this was the first time they had _talked_ in almost three years. And Obi-Wan allowing Padmé to call Anakin by name would have been a concession, a starting point for them to work from to try and rebuild their relationship. A concession that Obi-Wan coldly and casually denied, shutting Anakin out once again.

"Obi-Wan…" Anakin whispered, unsure of what he wanted to say, how to express himself before it was too late. Obi-Wan would walk out Anakin's door and that would be the end. Padmé would be barred from visiting him, and even that small connection to his former Master would be completely lost, taking with it even the feeblest hopes of reconciliation.

Obi-Wan cut him off before he could find the words, herding a reluctant Padmé towards the door without glancing at Anakin. "We shouldn't take up any more of your time; it is the Solstice after all."

Aloof, detached, disinterested. No more than an automatic response borne of Obi-Wan's ingrained _politesse,_ rather than any real concern for occupying Anakin's time.

"Yes. Yes it is," Anakin whispered softly, slumping back against the counter top.

Obi-Wan turned at those words, and his eyes met Anakin's own.

Everything faded for a moment. Anakin could hear the sound of his heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears, his breathing speeding up automatically as those eyes pierced him. Obi-Wan had always seemed to be able to see right through him, to know Anakin's secrets and innermost thoughts with a single glance. Of course, that was an illusion that he had been forced to discard years ago. Obi-Wan hadn't been able to see that Anakin had been hurting, that the only person he could run to was Palpatine. He hadn't seen the way the Dark Side was coiling around his young lover's heart, choking him. It had made Anakin wonder whether Obi-Wan had ever truly known him at all.

All the same, there had been moments of perfect clarity in their life together, when they could communicate without words, could know each other's thoughts almost before they had been fully formed. And so Anakin wondered if Obi-Wan could see straight through to his broken heart now, if his former Master could see the anguish and loneliness that lay so close underneath Anakin's calm veneer. Making eye contact for the first time in three years, would Obi-Wan see how much Anakin missed him, _needed _him?

Would he even care?

For a second, he thought he saw a flicker of longing in Obi-Wan's eyes as they stared at each other, a reflection of his own maelstrom of emotions in a silvery-grey mirror. But it was gone in an instant as Padmé tugged at her Master's arm. Anakin sagged back slightly as the intense contact was broken, feeling his heart racing and cursing his foolish, hopeful imagination for making the illusion of what he _wanted_ to see in Obi-Wan's eyes.

Ignoring them both, Anakin staggered over to the couch. He mechanically grabbed his discarded tunic and pulled it back on, before collapsing heavily onto the couch.

Anakin closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the cushions. He hated this. Hated this stupid uncertainty and damnable hope that flourished in his heart, no matter how hard he tried to stamp it out. He wasn't an optimist by nature; he had seen too much in the galaxy to maintain that kind of innocence. And Obi-Wan had never been anything but perfectly clear in his new disgust regarding Anakin, so there was no reason to try and read into every look, every movement.

_"Sith damn it, he doesn't love you, and he never will again. Get _over _it!'_ Anakin mentally berated himself. But at the same time, though he ranted and raved, cursing himself for being seven kinds of a romantic idiot, Anakin knew that he never would get over Obi-Wan. Because he didn't _want_ to. He didn't _want_ to forget, he didn't _want_ move on. His heart was set, and there was no changing it.

Dimly, Anakin heard Padmé say something to her Master, but kept his eyes firmly shut. What did it matter now, anyways? The two of them would go off and celebrate the Solstice together, and Anakin would be left alone, just like he always was.

"_Please, _Master… no one should be alone tonight; you told me that, remember?"

"But Padawan, I'm sure that Master Skywalker has…."

Anakin could not suppress the soft, bitter laugh that escaped him at those words. _Master Skywalker _didn't have _anything_ he needed to do this evening, and he knew Obi-Wan was well aware of that. This night held too many memories for both of them now. Obi-Wan could move past that, forge new connections with the_ brilliant_ child at his side. But Anakin? He was left in the shadows, starting longingly back at his past: unable to go back, yet unwilling to push onwards.

"It's the thought that counts, Master. Please? Please?"

Anakin opened his eyes a crack just in time to see Obi-Wan make a gesture of defeat and turn away, conceding to his Padawan's whims. The rigid set of Obi-Wan's shoulders as he crossed his arms over his chest fairly screamed his disapproval, but Padmé was oblivious to that irritation, turning to Anakin with an expectant grin.

He hesitated. Rationally, he knew that one evening spent together in stiffly formal civility would not change Obi-Wan's opinion of him. In that sense, it didn't matter one way or another; the only person he would be pleasing was the exuberant Padawan who was fairly bouncing up and down in front of him.

Anakin sent one swift, searching glance in Obi-Wan's direction.

Nothing.

Had Obi-Wan met his eyes, had he silently asked Anakin not to spoil the evening, using the wordless communication that they had developed over years of partnership, Anakin would have declined the invitation without question. There was no reason for both Anakin and Obi-Wan to spend a terrible Solstice. Had Obi-Wan bothered to ask it of him, Anakin would have let Padmé and her Master celebrate together and be happy, without a spectre of the past casting a pall over the evening.

But the silent Jedi Master remained staring fixedly ahead, seeming to be completely indifferent. As if it didn't matter one way or another what Anakin's response was.

So Anakin smiled shyly, rising and grasping Padmé's hand. Obi-Wan's apathy was painful, but he would endure for no other reason than to see the young girl smile. She was the only person in a long time who made him feel _wanted, _not like some dark Force ghost that persisted in haunting a cold and unfeeling Temple. He would go for her sake, then, Obi-Wan be damned.

The rationalization sounded noble in Anakin's head, but his heart knew otherwise.

-----

Anakin felt awkward and clumsy, an odd sense of displacement that he had not felt since the day Qui-Gon had brought him to the Jedi Temple. He wasn't sure what he was doing here, why he had acquiesced so quickly to Padmé's guileless invitation. If he had wondered before how much she knew of his and Obi-Wan's history, that had answered his question. Clearly, Obi-Wan had never mentioned the details to her, or else she wouldn't have risked stirring up painful memories by asking Anakin to join in their Solstice celebration.

But setting that question to rest only raised a new one. Why hadn't Obi-Wan objected more strongly to Anakin's intruding on this holiday? Did the older Jedi care that much about his new Padawan, or was it that --?

No. Anakin denied the thought before it could fully form. Obi-Wan's feelings towards him had never been any less than perfectly clear. Anakin's presence was tolerated for Padmé's sake. Nothing more.

Anakin smiled sadly, running his hand over the kitchen counter. It had always been Obi-Wan's domain, the kitchen. Apparently Padmé was allowed to venture into that sacred territory now. She had done her level best to play hostess to Anakin, trying to ease the tension between her Master and Anakin with strained small talk as she made some hot chocolate for them all.

With a frown, Anakin noticed the jar of bacta salve that lay open on the counter next to the stove top. Had he and Obi-Wan had been so focused on being polite to each other that neither one noticed when the girl burned herself? Or was Padawan Naberrie just that good at shielding her emotions?

Anakin sighed, drumming his fingers against the counter top. Of course, without a true training bond, it wouldn't take much shielding to prevent Obi-Wan from picking up what she was feeling. Anakin felt a rush of pity for the girl as he called the bacta into his hand, pensively screwing the lid back on.

He felt like a stranger here. That was the problem; Anakin mused as he picked up his wine glass once more and surveyed the empty common room. In accepting Padmé's invitation, Anakin had naively assumed that returning to these apartments would feel like coming home. But he was an outsider now.

The rooms were so familiar – so achingly familiar – and yet they were completely different. Even now that Padmé had been gently eased off to bed, falling asleep against Obi-Wan's arm as he guided her into her bedroom, Anakin could still sense her Force signature in the air. It stood out, vivid and vibrant against the backdrop of so many _male_ signatures. Qui-Gon's, Obi-Wan's… Anakin's own. Faint yet, but still there. No more than an echo. Someday, it would fade completely, and there would be no trace of him left in this place he had once considered home.

Nothing but memories….

"Memories fade in time." Obi-Wan's terse voice broke Anakin from his reverie, making him blink, disoriented. Had he been speaking aloud?

"It was in your face…" Obi-Wan sounded almost uncertain, hesitating at the edge of the dark hallway that lead away from the common room. Anakin pushed himself off the counter against which he had been leaning immediately, aware of the strained tension that suddenly existed between them. He felt trapped, exposed under the fluorescent glare of the kitchen lights, and quickly took a sip of his wine to hide his confusion.

The silence stretched between them, Obi-Wan vacillating at the edge of the room, Anakin hardly daring to move under the intensity of his former Master's attention. Swiftly he turned away, breaking the uncomfortable moment as he set his glass back onto the counter. It rattled against the surface, tinkling in the silence, and Anakin cursed his hands for shaking.

Mustering up a falsely cheerful smile, he turned back to the still-motionless Obi-Wan with forced insouciance.

"You always were able to read me too well." Anakin quipped, feeling disgustingly banal. However, he regretted the words instantly, as Obi-Wan flinched and seemed to pull back into himself. The mask of the Jedi Master snapped back into place automatically, hiding the moment of tentative vulnerability that Anakin had seen. The words hung in the silence for a moment, mocking in their soundless echoes. A reminder of the one time when Obi-Wan hadn't been able to read Anakin at all, and it had lead to heartache for both of them.

"You should probably leave." Obi-Wan said instantly, striding into the room and over to the kitchen, reaching past Anakin to grab the empty wineglass from the counter. Anakin reacted instinctively, trapping Obi-Wan's hand under his own, his other hand rising to caress that beloved face.

"Obi-Wan…." Anakin couldn't finish the sentence, didn't know what he wanted to say. Everything that he loved, everything that he cared about, worried about, and dreamed of; everything that he had _lost_ was contained within those syllables.

He could feel Obi-Wan tense instantly under the touch, felt the brief shiver that ran through the other Jedi's body before being ruthlessly mastered into stillness.

"Don't." Obi-Wan shrugged away the hand with an icy glare and a low growl. But when he tried to reclaim his hand from Anakin's grasp, Anakin tightened his grip subtly. Not enough to hurt – that would be unthinkable – just enough that Obi-Wan could not pull away.

"Anakin –"

"So you've finally remembered my name?" Anakin retorted sharply, caught between laughing and crying as he stared at Obi-Wan. The Jedi Master didn't return his gaze, keeping his eyes fixed on their joined hands. He did not bother to struggle any longer, all the tensions drained out of his body with an abruptness that scared Anakin. He had expected a fight, had wanted to force all their emotions out into the open. Anakin was used to his severe, prickly Obi-Wan, the exasperated, dignified, irritable Obi-Wan whom he adored. Not this resigned man who dully stared at his trapped hand as though it belonged to somebody else.

"Anakin, please. Just let me go." The words were barely spoken, a whisper that startled Anakin more than if his normally reserved Master had screamed at him. Mutely, he released Obi-Wan's hand, stepping back as Obi-Wan leaned heavily against the counter, his head bowed. The posture was so weary that Anakin wanted nothing more than to sweep Obi-Wan into his arms and hold him tightly, to stroke his soft hair and whisper that everything would be all right. He was equally possessed with wild anger, directed at the person who had dared to hurt Obi-Wan this much.

Anger directed entirely at himself.

He couldn't stay here, Anakin saw that all too clearly now. For almost his entire life, he had gone out of his way to protect Obi-Wan, to keep safe the man that he cared about. Now he was the one who was causing Obi-Wan pain. And that was unacceptable.

Biting his lip hard, Anakin studied Obi-Wan intently, committing every line of the older Jedi's body to memory. The way the harsh kitchen lights were softened on his coppery hair, silvered now at his temples. The way the shadows cast by those lights defined his face, highlighting cheekbones and the curve of his lips. The flow of coarse Jedi robes over his graceful figure.

"Enough," Anakin whispered to himself, turning away. It would have to be enough. He would request a transfer to another planet, another Temple, far away from Coruscant. Where Obi-Wan would become no more than a memory, a name to whisper to the darkness.

"Why did you do it?"

Anakin froze, hand hovering over the opening mechanism on the door, breath hitching in his throat. There was so much hurt in that question, so much confusion and despair – a perfect counterpoint to the emotions he had been living with for the years they had spent apart. Anakin hesitated. He didn't want to answer that question, didn't want to be forced to revisit everything he had tried to block out of his mind. He didn't want to think of Palpatine, to remember the Jedi who had died because of his stupidity.

Anakin studied the door intently, feeling tension flare through his body. If he walked away right now, he could just forget everything that ever happened. They would both forget; any overtones of reconciliation established between them would be shattered beyond repair. He wouldn't be able to hurt Obi-Wan any more, and wouldn't be able to _be _hurt.

He slowly pulled his hand back, and turned to face Obi-Wan. And gasped, feeling as though the floor had dropped out from under him.

Obi-Wan's cold mask was completely gone, the indifference and apathy that had created an insurmountable chasm between them vanished. In its place, there was only naked vulnerability, a despondency that made Anakin ache. Obi-Wan wasn't generally demonstrative with his emotions – he felt everything intensely, Anakin knew, but kept it all bottled up inside under a façade of perfect Jedi tranquility.

It had scared Anakin sometimes that Obi-Wan could pretend so well, and could maintain that pretence effortlessly: an ease that was equally feigned. Anakin knew first hand the emotional toll of trying to keep everything inside. It was exhausting to have to pretend, to assume a strong façade so that no one else would know how broken you were behind that mask. Anakin had seen it in Obi-Wan after Qui-Gon's death, and he had felt it himself in his years of unrequited love for his Master.

He felt it now, struggling furiously to keep his emotions in check behind a calm veneer as he faced Obi-Wan.

There had to be an outlet, some form of release. Anakin had been able to cry in Obi-Wan's arms, to feel safe and secure and loved, once upon a time. Failing that, he had found another source of comfort, another sympathetic ear to which he could confide all his fears. Anakin shivered, pushing the way the memory of that folly. He hadn't been wise in his choice of confidants, but at least he had always _had_ somebody. Palpatine had always been there to be a sympathetic ear when Anakin didn't know where else to go. But Obi-Wan…. Obi-Wan hated to let anyone see him as being less than perfect, as being _human_.

And it scared Anakin.

'_Why do you never cry in front of me?'_

'_A Jedi shouldn't cry. We shouldn't indulge in grief, but rejoice that the soul has rejoined –'_

'_That's Sithspit and you know it.'_

'_Anakin….'_

'_I won't think any less of you, Master. You're only human.'_

'_But it-it's my fault… I-I should have been able to…'_

'_Shhh…it's all right. I'm here, Obi-Wan. I'm here.'_

To whom did Obi-Wan confess now? Who held him and let him cry, to ease the pain in his soul before it festered and poisoned his heart? Whom did he let close now that Anakin had broken his trust?

In four quick strides, Anakin had closed the distance between them and captured Obi-Wan's lips with his own, bringing up one hand to caress the older Jedi's cheek. One stolen moment – like the kisses Anakin had once taken while Obi-Wan slept – before a firm hand flat against his chest shoved him away.

Anakin tensed, expecting fury, a tirade that would batter him down for daring to be so presumptuous. But Obi-Wan said nothing. The Jedi Master's face was flushed, and he had quickly hugged his arms tightly across his chest as though to protect himself. Staring in shock at Anakin with his changeable eyes.

Soul-bruising eyes.

The few feet between them seemed to grow exponentially with every second passed in silence. Anakin leaned against the back of the sofa, digging his fingers into the yielding fabric.

Obi-Wan bit his lip, dropping his gaze to the floor momentarily before darting a quick glance back Anakin. A reluctant, sad smile tugged at one corner of his lips for a moment before slipping back into impassivity.

"That wasn't an answer," Obi-Wan murmured with hollow amusement. He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes for a second as though seeking what he wanted to say. Anakin found himself holding his breath as well, waiting.

"You…" Obi-Wan hesitated, brow furrowed in a faint frown. His eyes were earnest when they met Anakin's once again. "You owe me that much. An explanation, I…." his voice petered out into a self-mocking laugh. "_Why_, Anakin?"

Anakin's breath hitched in his throat, remembering the last time Obi-Wan had spoken those despairing words to him. Anakin had rushed his Knighting ceremony in Obi-Wan's absence, inadvertently hurting his Master. The same night that Anakin had managed to confess his love for Obi-Wan. Haja, but it all felt so long ago now.

He felt as inadequate now as he had back then, just as incapable of expressing the love and fear and need to be recognized that had driven him then as now.

"I…." Anakin began helplessly, unable to fully meet Obi-Wan's eyes.

Obi-Wan sighed quietly, shaking his head. "I suppose it doesn't matter now, does it?"

"I…I was scared."

There was a moment of silence after Anakin blurted out those words, voice cracking slightly under the strain of unspoken words and emotions. He could feel a lump of unshed tears forming in his throat, and swallowed hard to push them away.

"I-I was dreaming again. Nightmares…like from… from before my mother died. And… and I-I knew that they weren't just dreams, though Master Yoda and the Council and… and _you_ would tell me that was all they were." Anakin's fists clenched at his sides, his breathing harsh as he pushed back the old anger that seethed through him at the thought. _Dreams pass in time, Anakin_. That was what everyone had told him before his mother had died on Tatooine. He had seen her death in his nightmares, but no one had believed him.

_Dreams pass in time_. They were wrong. Dreams didn't pass. Dreams died, and took with them everything you wanted or desired or dared to hope for.

Anakin hadn't told any other Jedi about the existence of these new nightmares for fear that Obi-Wan would be taken from him, the attachment between he and Obi-Wan deemed too strong, too close to the Dark Side. Anakin had feared that Obi-Wan would dismiss the visions as nothing more than dreams, or believe them, and distance himself from Anakin as a result. So he had lied, had covered up the visions that haunted him and pretended that everything would be fine, even as the dragon of terror started to consume his heart. He had lied to keep Obi-Wan with him, to keep their relationship from changing.

But he had lost Obi-Wan anyways. He had lost everything important that night.

"So you went to Palpatine." Obi-Wan's voice was curiously flat; eyes dull as he pushed one hand through his short, greying hair.

"He _listened _to me, Obi-Wan," Anakin insisted, willing his former Master understand him. To no effect it seemed, as Obi-Wan's expression only darkened.

"He coddled you, feeding you exactly what you wanted to hear," Obi-Wan retorted, cheeks flushing slightly in temper.

"What I wanted to hear…?" Anakin began, incredulity tingeing his words. "Of course, _Master_. I _wanted_ to hear that you were incapable of falling in love with me. I _wanted _to hear that I was no more than a convenient fuck for you –" Anakin bit back the rest of his better words, hands fisting on the back of the couch as Obi-Wan flinched.

"He told you ..." Obi-Wan repeated with soft incredulity, eyes clouded in anger. Only for a moment, before he looked away and took a deep breath, as though trying to keep from saying far more than that. Anakin could see the constrained rage flaring behind the calm façade, and knew that if Palpatine hadn't already been dead, Obi-Wan would have rectified that problem on Anakin's words alone.

It was strangely gratifying for a moment; that instinctive protectiveness in Obi-Wan, before the Jedi's piercing eyes locked back on Anakin's own. He realized, with a sick lurching sensation, that Obi-Wan was equally furious with _him_.

"He told you that, and you _believed him_?" Obi-Wan's voice was heavily laden with sarcasm and disbelief. "Did I never teach you to _think_, Anakin? For Force's sake, he was a _Sith Lord_! Did it never occur to you that he might be _lying_?"

Anakin straightened instantly, stung by the irritable condescension. Yes, he had been an idiot, he was well aware of that and had paid for it for the past three years, but he would not allow Obi-Wan to rip into him as though he were no more than a green Padawan. His listening to Palpatine hadn't been completely unfounded. The Sith Lord had been adept at taking grains of truth and twisting them to suit his needs, and Anakin, feeling scared and isolated, had fallen headlong into his tangle of lies.

Not without reason. There had always been a strict division between the way Obi-Wan treated Anakin in private and in public. To the eyes of the Republic and the Council, he had always been the perfectly reserved Master. Anakin hadn't expected Obi-Wan to be publicly affectionate – although it had always been an amusing fantasy to kiss his implacable lover in front of a gaggle of HoloNet reporters – but he wanted to be acknowledged. To be reassured that he was loved, no matter what the precepts of the Jedi Order had to say about attachment.

Seeing Obi-Wan's disturbing ability to suspend emotion the moment he left their shared apartments, it was no wonder that Palpatine's ostensibly idle musings had taken root in Anakin's heart, saturating his spirit with their honeyed poison.

"'_Take your Master Kenobi for instance, my friend...I cannot imagine him ever soul bonding with another Knight, or even allowing himself to be attached to someone. It would go against the very Order he lives for….'"_

Those words had torn a hole in Anakin's heart, and still made him ache at the memory. He had always believed Obi-Wan to be incapable of putting his own wants and desires before the greater good, and had thought that he admired that quality in his Master. Obi-Wan Kenobi, the paragon of Jedi virtue. Anakin's idol, his hero. But he hadn't realized how much that detachment bothered him until Palpatine had made the gentle suggestion that it ought to. The realization had left him speechless, standing numbly in the Chancellor's sumptuous office while the entire world seemed to crash down around him.

That much hadn't changed, even with his return to the Light. It was selfish, but Anakin didn't care: he wanted to be the most important aspect of Obi-Wan's life, just as the Jedi Master was everything to him. That was all Anakin had ever wanted, from the moment he had been taken as Obi-Wan's Padawan. He wanted to _matter_.

"If you had set aside your perfect Jedi act for a second, maybe I would have had less reason to believe him, did you think about that?" Anakin spat bitterly.

Obi-Wan made a furious gesture, sweeping his hand in the air as though to indicate how removed from the situation he had been. "You never came to me! You _never_ told me _anything!_" he pushed one hand through his hair, frustrated beyond measure. "By the stars, Anakin, I can't read your mind! _Why_ would you go to him? Didn't I teach you anything about –?"

"Yes, you taught me plenty of things, _Master," _Anakin shot back, overriding Obi-Wan and sneering on the older Jedi's title. "And you _never_ stopped trying to teach me. You couldn't set aside being a Jedi long enough to listen to me as an equal. Palpatine did. And I trusted him with _everything_."

It was a cheap shot, one that was designed to cut Obi-Wan deeply. Anakin couldn't help the almost painful burn of satisfaction that swelled inside of him as the remark hit home. Seeing Obi-Wan's involuntary flinch, Anakin knew that he had gained the upper hand in the argument, if only for a second. Something that had always been rare in his debates with The Negotiator.

It was a singularly hollow victory.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth as though to snap back some furious comment, but stopped as a small voice interrupted them.

"Master? I… I heard voices…" Padmé stood in the hallway uncertainly, hair mussed from sleep and hands twisted anxiously in her sleep shirt.

"It's nothing Padawan. Go back to bed." Obi-Wan replied sharply, without turning to look at her. He never broke his eye contact with Anakin, the tension between them still palpable in the air. But it had faded, moving from a surface filled with rash words and empty accusations, to simmering hurt and resentment. The anger was still present, Anakin could sense it in his former Master's Force-signature: vibrant lines that were jarring, outside the rhythm of the living Force. But as Padmé's footsteps receded down the hallway, those lines in the Force blurred and bled out, as though Obi-Wan simply did not have the energy to keep fighting such a meaningless battle.

And it _was_ meaningless, Anakin knew. Screaming hateful words at each other could not possibly do anything more than unleash the pain that both of them had been bottling up for so long. But at the same time, knowing that the verbal combat would only wound them more, Anakin was loathe to have it end. It was better than being a ghost, as he had been in Obi-Wan's eyes for the past three years. At least screaming at him, Obi-Wan was forced to acknowledge Anakin's existence.

"I suppose therein lies the problem, Anakin." Obi-Wan said softly, turning his eyes at last to the now-empty hallway where Padmé had just disappeared. _"I_ was supposed to be the one that you loved, and yet you trusted him more than you trusted me." When he brought his gaze to rest again on Anakin, Obi-Wan's eyes were lustreless, his voice flat. "And love without trust… well…" he laughed cynically. "That's hardly love, is it?"

The question was purely rhetorical, but compelled Anakin to cross the gap between them. He grabbed Obi-Wan's arm roughly when the Jedi tried to turn away, spinning Obi-Wan to face him.

"Can you blame me?" Anakin demanded angrily, gripping Obi-Wan's shoulders tight enough to bruise and shaking him slightly. He could feel angry tears rising in his eyes and blinked hard to dispel them. "All my _life_ I've wanted to be… to be _good_ enough for you. I-I had to make you want to keep me, to make you like me, to-to make you…to make you love me. And..." he looked down and bit his lip, seeking the words to express the detestable jealousy he had lived with for most of his life.

Anakin laughed quietly, desperately, feeling the tears start to slide down his cheeks as he met Obi-Wan's impassive gaze once more. "I've never quite been able to get out of Qui-Gon's shadow. I-I have _never_ been able to live up to him in..." he gestured angrily with one hand, taking in the entire room that still resonated softly with Qui-Gon's Force signature "…in _anything!_"

The picture that Obi-Wan had taken with him on missions, had kept close to his heart or under his pillow. The soft, sad smile that he always wore when Qui-Gon was mentioned. The way he still murmured the dead Jedi Knight's name in his dreams, even when curled up in Anakin's arms.

Although he wanted nothing more than to bury his head in his Master's shoulder to be comforted, as he had always done as a Padawan, Anakin slowly let his hands fall away from Obi-Wan's shoulders. They slid down the fabric of his former Master's robes almost possessively for a moment before dropping loosely to his side. "You've never loved me as much as you loved him," he finished with quiet, defeated certainty, taking a step back. "And now you never will, will you?"

Obi-Wan had stiffened at Anakin's words, arching back. "I-I _never…?_" he hissed furiously, some unnamed mixture of emotions sparking in his eyes. Shoving past Anakin, he stormed down the hallway into his room. Anakin followed tentatively behind and hesitated in the doorway of the bedroom, uncertain whether Obi-Wan was trying to put distance between them or if he wanted to prove something.

His question was answered a moment later when a small package was thrust roughly into his hand.

"Take it," Obi-Wan snapped, not meeting Anakin's eyes. "It's yours anyways; I don't have a use for it any longer. Consider it a belated Solstice Night and," he laughed hoarsely, "two-year anniversary present."

Startled, Anakin opened his mouth to make some reply, but was cut off by an irritated gesture from his former Master.

Obi-Wan took a slow breath, steadying himself "Don't…" he pinched the bridge of his nose as though warding off a headache, and then finally met Anakin's eyes. His voice was so soft as to almost be inaudible, but the intense mixture of emotion behind the words made them fall heavily into the silence of the room. "Don't _dare_ to presume to know what I do and do not feel, Anakin."

Anakin stared at the small parcel in his hand, heart thudding in his ears. Obi-Wan moved past him without another word. His footsteps, muted on the plush carpeting, faded into the common room. There was a soft bell-like sound, the clink of a bottle meeting a glass, and then silence. Anakin registered the sounds in the part of his mind that had been developed in years of war, where every noise could mean approaching droids and death. But the automatic acknowledgement of the quiet noises seemed to be far away, disconnected from Anakin's mind which had gone completely blank.

His eyes were fixed on the box, which trembled faintly. Anakin belatedly realized that it was a motion caused by his hand shaking.

Unwrapping the plain paper – silvery blue-grey, like _pinear_ needles or Obi-Wan's eyes – Anakin's breath hitched at the velvet-covered box within. Tears blurred his sight as he gently opened the lid.

It was a plain band, of course. Not because the stipend of a Jedi Knight was meagre at best, because Anakin knew from experience that Obi-Wan would go to any lengths to secure the best Solstice present possible. It was plain simply because Anakin didn't care much for flashy adornments. White gold, unmarked and perfect. And a message in stark black ink against a gleaming white piece of paper.

_Marry me._

Marriage wasn't a custom amongst the Jedi, of course. There were bonded Knight pairs, but they were few and far between. And bonding didn't require a ceremony or any physical symbol of the union. But it was a tradition for the humans on Tatooine; the exchange of tokens, the ceremony, the title. In the end, it meant the same thing as being bonded, but somehow the difference in that one word meant everything.

And Obi-Wan had known that, had known that one word would make all the difference to Anakin. It was putting Anakin before the Jedi, before everything that had bound and shaped their lives.

_Don't dare to presume to know what I do and do not feel._

How would Obi-Wan's face have reacted three years ago, had Anakin greeted him with a hug rather than a lit sabre? Would he have been nervous, or calm, his eyes green or blue or grey in that moment? Would he have given Anakin the ring immediately, dropping to one knee in front of the main doors of the Temple, where anyone could see them? Anakin could imagine the tentative half-smile on his lover's face, the way Obi-Wan would bite his lower lip and duck his head when nervous, blue eyes wide in entreaty and love.

Or maybe Obi-Wan would have waited until the following morning, when they were curled contentedly around each other, dosing in the early dawn's light. Anakin closed his eyes tightly, holding back his tears. Obi-Wan had always purred soft endearments as Anakin slowly woke in the morning, so that the first sound Anakin would hear was the voice of his lover. It had always made Anakin wake with a smile, wrapped in warm, strong arms, to be greeted with a gentle kiss.

Was that how Obi-Wan had planned to propose, kissing Anakin's neck softly before whispering the words in his young lover's ear?

_Marry me…. _

Shaking, Anakin slipped the ring onto his finger, gasping softly. It fit perfectly, of course, settling comfortably around his finger as though it was a part of him. He closed his hand into a gentle fist, and then opened it again, twisting it to watch the play of light across the metallic surface, and to feel the unaccustomed sensation of the band against his flesh. It just felt _right_ there, though it was completely new.

And though common sense dictated that he remove the ring immediately, Anakin knew he would never willingly let it off his finger again. It marked him as being Obi-Wan's. And even if his former Master no longer wanted to stake that claim, it didn't change the fact that Anakin had wilfully given his heart away long ago.

Obi-Wan didn't turn as Anakin re-entered the common room, sitting on the edge of the couch and swirling some amber liquid in his glass almost absently. Anakin could see the older Jedi's shoulders tense at his approach, and knew the nonchalance was a façade. Anakin saw how tightly Obi-Wan's hand was clenched around the glass, and worried that it might shatter in his grip. Glancing down at his own hand once more to gain some strength from the plain band, Anakin took a hesitant step forwards.

"Obi-Wan, I –"

"Don't, Anakin…" Obi-Wan shook his head, tossing back the last of his drink in a single swallow. "Don't apologize to me. It hardly makes a difference now anyways." His voice was quiet and bitter, and made Anakin pull back. It didn't matter any more; Obi-Wan was right. What was done was done; there was no going back and altering the past.

But Obi-Wan would try to deny them the right to a future.

"No, listen to me," Anakin interjected, hearing the desperation that tinged his words. This was the last chance he had to make Obi-Wan understand him; after this moment there would be no hope of making amends. "Sidious… he… I didn't _want_ to listen to him, Obi-Wan. But… it was easier." Anakin sucked in a deep breath, biting the inside of his lip. How could he possibly put this into words? Obi-Wan had never been there, he didn't know how the Dark Side pulled inexorably at your mind, until you forgot everything that was good and happy in your life. Until only the painful memories remained.

"I was…" Anakin laughed self-depreciatingly, "I was _terrified_ of losing… it was as though… as though everything I had in my life was too good to last. As though _we_ were too good to last. I didn't want to be left behind by you, once…once you realized that you didn't need me any more." Anakin heard his voice grow smaller and more feeble with each successive justification, until it petered out into silence.

Obi-Wan wasn't looking at him, still facing obstinately out the window as though the traffic of Coruscant was the most captivating spectacle in the world.

It was too late, then. Anakin twisted the ring around his finger hopelessly. No matter what he said, it would never make a difference, would not even register against his former Master's impassivity.

But Obi-Wan had asked him for an explanation, before they had started screaming at each other. And Anakin would give him what he asked for. He owed Obi-Wan that much.

"Sidious told me that the pain would stop if I set myself above emotional attachments. If I destroyed them before I could _be_ destroyed." Anakin bowed his head, cast around for something to focus on. "It was like I was drowning," he whispered finally, feeling tears rise in his eyes. He had been drowning alone, struggling in silence to reach solid ground once more. "And… and no one was there to catch me, or save me, Obi-Wan, I –" He cut himself off sharply, voice cracking.

"As Vader, there was… there was some part of me that could still hear you, could _remember –_" Anakin spoke with difficulty now, feeling more vulnerable than he had ever been before in his life. He had presented this same story to the solemn members of the Council, before the flat eyes of Master Windu and the knowing gaze of Yoda, and he hadn't been this scared. He was laying his soul bare, laying his fragile hopes for forgiveness at Obi-Wan's feet. Praying that his former Master would tread softly upon them, rather than stamping them out completely. "I could still remember being happy here, but there was a wall that prevented me from touching that happiness. It-it was like there was someone else there, controlling my mind, and speaking with my voice…."

_Vader_. Anakin shivered at the memory of that cold presence dominating him. The cruel amusement with which the Sith had listened to his pleas, before crushing them beneath the weight of the Dark Side.

It had been himself, a darker side of his own personality finally given voice. Anakin knew he could place the blame for his actions on no one else, even though he had felt the distinct difference between _Anakin_ and _Vader. _It had been his own choice.

Anakin hadn't meant to voice that final thought aloud, didn't realize that he had spoken until the echo of his own words reached his ears.

"I know." Obi-Wan's voice sounded hollow. "It's always a choice to submit to the Dark Side. I just… I fail to see how anyone would _willingly –" _he broke off the tirade with a resigned sigh, rising to pour himself another drink. Anakin noticed dimly that the Jedi Master still refused to face him, as though afraid that his facial expression would reveal some hint to his emotions.

"I told you before…" Anakin began haltingly, gesturing ineffectively.

"That you were scared. That you were afraid to lose me." Obi-Wan parroted the words back with venom, staring hard at the bottle of liqueur as he slammed it back down on top of the cabinet. "Anakin…."

The young Jedi Knight saw the tremor that shook Obi-Wan's body, as though some violent emotion was being furiously suppressed.

"There was no surer way to lose me, Anakin." Obi-Wan's voice was very quiet, very calm, belying the surge of feeling that Anakin had just witnessed. "I lost Qui-Gon to a Sith's blade… to see you _willingly_ become the thing that I despised more than anything else. To… to lose you to a Sith just as I lost him…Anakin…."

Obi-Wan was trembling again, and Anakin sense the overwhelming emotions that his former Master was trying so hard to shield. He didn't manage to finish the sentence; he didn't have to. Anakin felt his heart like duracrete in his chest, heavy and cold. Of course; it had been the ultimate betrayal for Anakin to turn to the Dark Side, after Obi-Wan had already lost one man that he loved to it. But Qui-Gon's death had been that of a Jedi Knight, fighting against the Sith.

Anakin had _become_ that evil.

It was no wonder that Obi-Wan could barely stand to look at him.

"What do you want me to say?" he begged quietly of the now-silent Obi-Wan. "That I'm _sorry?_" Anakin couldn't stop the pained laugh that escaped him. "I am, you know that I am, but I could say it a thousand times over, and I still don't think that you would hear me!"

_All I need is forgiveness, acceptance… some kind of redemption. Even if we can be nothing more than cordial to each other, I don't want you to ignore me any longer. I don't want to be invisible to you. _

"What do I want." Obi-Wan's scornful tone made the question into a statement. Turning at last to face Anakin, he advanced deliberately, eyes burning. "What I _want_ is to _forget. _To be able to sleep through one night without being haunted by your face. I _want_ to wake in the mornings and not reach for where you should be."

"Obi-Wan –" Anakin's heart ached, and he took an involuntary step forwards, wanting to sweep Obi-Wan into his arms. Quickly, Anakin crossed his arms tightly over his chest, as though that physical gesture would somehow keep him from breaking apart.

He done the same every night for the past three years; had tried to curl up to an absent lover when he first started to wake in the morning, after dreaming of Obi-Wan's touch all night. But unlike Obi-Wan, he didn't want to be free of that instinctive response. It hurt, _Sith_ it hurt more than anything else could, but it was a memory of Obi-Wan. And memories were all he had left now.

"I _can't_ do this again, Anakin. I'm not strong enough," Obi-Wan said dully, crossing his arms over his chest in a subconscious imitation of Anakin's posture, before looking away. "Three years ago, I drew my 'sabre with the intention of killing you. We tried to _kill_ each other, Anakin. That's not something that can just be _erased_."

Anakin saw the mask slip for a second, tried to reach out to Obi-Wan, but was sharply rebuffed.

"I…" Obi-Wan's voice cracked slightly, but he shook his head and pressed on. "I _knew_ I couldn't… I couldn't kill you, Anakin. No matter what you did, no matter who you killed, I _knew_…." Obi-Wan paused for a moment as though trying to recover his composure. "It terrified me to look into your eyes and… and not see _you_ there, Anakin. But I would have let you live, even if you hadn't turned back to the Light." Obi-Wan laughed: a harsh sound, staring bitterly at his hands. "What does that say about me?" he whispered, as an afterthought. "That I would have let you live, even had you destroyed the Jedi… because killing you would have destroyed _me_."

"Will you never forgive?" Anakin whispered as his former Master turned away irrevocably. The words were pitched quietly, making it a rhetorical question. He didn't think Obi-Wan would answer even had he heard. He didn't think he would want to hear the answer anyways.

But Obi-Wan's shoulders tensed slightly after Anakin spoke, as he sat down facing away from Anakin once again, Force-summoning his abandoned drink into his hand.

"I'm sorry, Anakin."

So that was how it would end. With an empty apology and an unanswerable question. Anakin hesitated for a second, feeling only a sense of regret for everything that might have been between them. But there were no more words to say, it seemed. This was it, then. He started to turn away, when Obi-Wan spoke again, barely more than a whisper.

"I'm sorry…"

Anakin whirled instantly, eyes wide.

"I… I'm sorry that I failed you." Obi-Wan gestured helplessly with the empty glass, his hand trembling. "I should have…I should have… oh Sith; I should have done everything differently." Obi-Wan's shoulders started to shake; he was crying, curling forward and hugging his arms tightly across his chest.

"No –" Anakin tried to protest, moving to him, but Obi-Wan shrugged away his hands when he tried to offer comfort. Anakin stood powerlessly, seeing the defeated cast of Obi-Wan's tear-streaked expression.

"I have failed you, Anakin. As a Master, as a friend… as someone who loves you. I failed completely." His face twisted into a mockery of a smile. "I seem to fail everybody I care about." He laughed, a sound almost bordering on hysteric. "I don't know if it's any better that my inadequacies lead you to almost _become_ a Sith rather than being murdered by one. It all amounts to the same thing in the end, doesn't it? I pity Padmé – Force only knows how I'll end up betraying her trust. Just like I did yours. Because I could never tell you that I… I…oh, _Anakin_…."

Anakin moved without thinking, taking the glass from Obi-Wan's hand and blindly setting it aside as he swept the older Jedi into his arms, feeling tears of his own burning against the back of his eyes as Obi-Wan's head pressed against his shoulder, as those familiar arms wound around him again. Anakin started to sob, muffled as he blindly sought Obi-Wan's mouth, a gasping, desperate kiss: tongues twining, hands twisting in robes and rising to tangle in hair. Rough, needy, and absolutely perfect. Anakin could taste salt, and wondered for a second whether it was from his own tears or Obi-Wan's.

They tumbled backwards onto the couch still intertwined, entangled in a careless embrace. Holding each other tightly, unwilling to ever let go again.

Anakin pulled back momentarily, pressing his lips against Obi-Wan's flushed cheeks, kissing away the tears that continued to fall.

The Jedi Master shook his head tightly, his eyes clenched tightly shut. Anakin could feel the fear in him through the Force, the fear of letting himself become susceptible to another person once again. Obi-Wan had loved twice, and had had his heart broken each time. Anakin wanted nothing more than to tear away the walls that the Jedi Master had built around his heart, but that defence was the only way Obi-Wan had learned to protect himself.

Instead, Anakin would have to find a door into that impenetrable fortress, to lead Obi-Wan out of the prison he had created around himself, and teach him to feel once more.

Still brushing Obi-Wan's face with gentle kisses, Anakin let his own shields fall, allowing Obi-Wan to see straight through him. No deception, no secrets. Not this time. Not ever again.

"I know that there are still a lot of things we'll need to work out," he whispered huskily, forcing a smile through his own tears. "After everything that I've done… Obi-Wan, I… I know that things can never go back to the way they were." The tears were staring anew, a lump in Anakin's throat that he spoke through with difficulty.

"We'll never be perfect together… but do you think we could at least be happy?"

Obi-Wan raised his hands to caress Anakin's cheeks tremulously. Anakin held his breath, heart pounding loudly in his ears as he studied the older Jedi's facial expression.

Finally, there was a faint easing of Obi-Wan's shields, enough that Anakin could sense his emotions again. Blue eyes filled with tears met his own as Obi-Wan smiled.

"Yes," he murmured softly, "I would like that…."

Anakin laughed sharply, a disbelieving sound that caught in his throat. It was as though a sudden weight had been lifted from his heart, leaving him feeling as though he could dance through the air without the Force supporting him. He was suddenly possessed with the wild thought of running through the Temple halls, skipping and laughing and yelling for the sheer joy of life.

But instead he crushed Obi-Wan more tightly against him, letting the other Jedi sense through the Force the magnitude of emotion that Anakin couldn't hope to put into words.

"I love you," he whispered hoarsely, resting his forehead against Obi-Wan's own. Starting to laugh through his tears, Anakin kissed Obi-Wan thoroughly again, running his tongue over Obi-Wan's own, tasting every inch of his mouth. Sweeping his hands down the length of his Master's back, Anakin pulled Obi-Wan to straddle his hips, kissing and biting his way down the column of Obi-Wan's neck. As Obi-Wan cried out softly, letting his head fall back, Anakin nuzzled the hollow of the older Jedi's throat. He breathed in deeply; revelling in the scent of Obi-Wan's skin, so familiar even after three years.

"I love you," Anakin whispered against the sensitive skin, following the pronouncement with a gentle kiss. "I love you." Over and over again, as he traced his way back up Obi-Wan's exposed throat, sealing the words with soft kisses and his tears.

Obi-Wan trembled in his arms, crying silently. Anakin murmured soothing noises as Obi-Wan clumsily returned his kisses, though he knew he was shaking just as badly with the release of emotions that had been pent up for far too long.

"I missed you," Obi-Wan whispered against Anakin's mouth, "I missed you so much, Anakin…."

Anakin kissed him again as Obi-Wan's voice trailed off into silence. There was so much between them that couldn't easily be put into words. But he pulled back sharply, surprised by the psychic brush against his mind.

Obi-Wan met his eyes, smiling faintly as he lowered his shields, letting Anakin sense how hurt and lonely and isolated he had been for the past three years. How scared he had been of letting anyone else get too close.

The love and desire that flooded his soul with light now that Anakin was back in his arms.

Anakin smiled softly, feeling the shadows that had lurked in his own heart for so long pushed back by the glow of Obi-Wan's Force Signature. Obi-Wan didn't merely walk in the light. To Anakin, he _was_ the light. He was _everything._

When Obi-Wan's hands slid underneath his tunics, Anakin arched automatically into the caress, moaning softly at the feather-light touches over his skin. His hands fumbled awkwardly on Obi-Wan's robes, pushing at them in frustration to expose more skin to his questing mouth. He wanted to taste every inch of Obi-Wan's body, to map out once more every scar, every freckle.

Sliding the coarse tan fabric of Obi-Wan's tunic back off of his shoulders, Anakin paused, brushing his thumb over the raised scar tissue that lay over Obi-Wan's heart. He remembered how it had felt under his cheek when he had just been a kid and Obi-Wan had carried him off to bed. How he would later sleep with his head pillowed against Obi-Wan's chest, hearing the older Jedi's heartbeat and feeling the smooth and shiny patch of skin.

With a faint smile Anakin lowered his lips to the scar, kissing it reverently as though he could erase it with love. Perhaps not the physical wound, but there was another scar on Obi-Wan's heart, one that Anakin had put there. That one he _could_ remove, and would spend the rest of his life doing so if Obi-Wan would give him the chance.

Obi-Wan gasped softly as Anakin moved his mouth lower, to run his tongue slowly around one dusky nipple, feeling it harden deliciously under the teasing caress. Anakin smirked against Obi-Wan's skin, loving the breathless moan that his actions provoked from his Master. Obi-Wan's fingers tightened in Anakin's hair, forcing him to raise his head once more, to be met in a bruising kiss. Anakin found himself pressed back firmly against the couch cushions as Obi-Wan's hands slid down over his chest. He moaned loudly, the sound muffled against Obi-Wan's mouth as the Jedi Master took control of the kiss and danced his tongue against Anakin's own, flicking it softly against the roof of Anakin's mouth.

Anakin lifted his hips as Obi-Wan hooked his fingers into the waistband of his pants, awkwardly wriggling them down. He broke away from the kiss sharply, breathless from Obi-Wan's fingers stroking his exposed skin, dizzy from lack of oxygen.

"Wa-wait… Padmé, she –"

Obi-Wan blindly flung out one hand in the direction of the hallway, and Anakin felt the powerful surge of a sleep-compulsion ripple through the Force. A sleep-compulsion strong enough to knock out an entire wing of squalling crèchelings. Anakin laughed, catching Obi-Wan's face in his hands and kissing him thoroughly once again, sending waves of love through the Force to his lover.

His lover. Being able to call Obi-Wan that once again, even only in his own mind, made Anakin's heart race with euphoria.

Nuzzling the base of Obi-Wan's ear, skimming his fingers along the length of Obi-Wan's bare back, Anakin was startled by Obi-Wan's hand placed flat on his chest; a silent entreaty to stop. Jerking his head back, he saw that his lover's eyes were a pained silver grey, his expression shocked.

"Anakin…" Obi-Wan whispered, running his index finger over an angry red scar low on Anakin's hip.

_Obi-Wan's low chuckle brought Anakin reluctantly back to reality, hard to do when those 'sabre-calloused fingers were tracing bewitching patterns on the sensitive skin of his hips. _

_"_This _is your tattoo, Anakin?" Obi-Wan laughed, lowering his head to press a chaste kiss on the spot. "OB1, hmm?"_

_Anakin couldn't help wriggling; when Obi-Wan had bent over like that, his Master's soft auburn hair had brushed maddeningly against his painfully hard cock. Still, Anakin couldn't help the smirk that split his features, even when Obi-Wan's hands and mouth were driving him mad. "It-it's… it's my… my – _oh Sith – _my favourite brand of speeder, Master," he panted, back arching against his volition as Obi-Wan's lips skimmed lightly over the letters, tracing them with gentle fluttering kisses. _

_He could feel Obi-Wan's smile against his skin. "Impudent runt."_

_Then all conscious thought was driven from his mind as Obi-Wan licked, nibbled and sucked on that tender patch of skin until Anakin was an incoherent puddle of lust, begging helplessly for release. _

Drunk and despondent after returning from that last disastrous mission, Anakin had dialled his lightsabre down to its lowest setting and burned his ex-lover's name from his skin. It had hurt, by the _stars_, it had hurt far more than he had anticipated; but it was a physical pain. And physical pain was much easier to block out than emotional wounds were.

Anakin didn't know what he had hoped to achieve by the rash action – maybe he had thought that purging his skin of Obi-Wan's mark would somehow purge the ever-present desire for the man from his heart. It hadn't worked, of course. And now Anakin was painfully aware of Obi-Wan's hand resting gently against the scar, and could feel his cheeks flare bright red with shame.

"Anakin?" Obi-Wan spoke again quietly. The young Jedi Knight flinched at the depth of sadness in that voice, the muted shock. He looked away, unable to meet Obi-Wan's eyes. He didn't want to see the tear tracks on his former Master's cheeks, didn't want to see the pain in those haunting eyes. Shaking his head, Anakin pressed his face against the base of Obi-Wan's neck, and closed his eyes.

Familiar hands stroked his hair soothingly, rubbing his back in slow circles. "Oh, Anakin…I'm so, so sorry."

Anakin brushed away the apology, pulling back and smiling faintly. "It's past now," he whispered, kissing the corner of Obi-Wan's mouth, "and weren't you the one who taught me to live in the moment?" He smiled crookedly, hands resting uncertainly on Obi-Wan's waist, absently stroking his bare sides.

The Jedi Master gently grabbed Anakin's left hand, bringing it up to his lips. Anakin saw the spark of pleasure that lit his eyes and flushed his cheeks when he noticed the ring on Anakin's finger. It was an irresistible expression; Anakin found that he just had to kiss him again.

It was like relearning the forms of a kata almost forgotten, slow and awkward at first, but coming smoother and more naturally as they learned to move together once again. A kata enacted to the counterpoint of throaty moans and panted gasps, of whispered endearments and passionate kisses. Anakin's hands slid down Obi-Wan's back, pushing away the thin trousers he was still wearing as his mouth continued to ravish the older Jedi's neck.

Anakin revelled in each caress, each kiss, each sigh of passion, and found himself wishing that time could stand still so that he could spend eternity like this: loving Obi-Wan and being loved. The knowledge that he was being given a second chance to do so for the rest of his life made his heart ache strangely, as though it couldn't contain the love and sheer joy that raced through him.

He wanted to stay like this forever, driving Obi-Wan slowly, tortuously mad with gentle caresses while his lover similarly made him wriggle with desire. But Obi-Wan pulled back, lips swollen and bruised with kisses, eyes dark with passion as they fixed on Anakin's own; an expression that sent a bolt of pure lust through Anakin.

Obi-Wan whispered Anakin's name softly, shifting his hips so that his erection slid against Anakin's own. Anakin clenched his jaw tightly to keep from crying out. Sith, but it had been too long. Being this close to Obi-Wan, being free to touch and taste the man that he loved, was enough to almost send him over the edge.

"Anakin…" Obi-Wan breathed again, nuzzling his face against the curve of Anakin's neck, hands pinning Anakin's shoulders back against the couch. "I… I need…" he breathed out slowly, the puff of warm air on Anakin's neck raising goose bumps all over his body. "I want you, Anakin."

Anakin groaned softly, unable to form a coherent reply. But when he tried to shift, to lay them both down fully on the couch, Obi-Wan pressed him back more firmly against the cushions.

"No. I… I want you here, like this." Obi-Wan growled softly, fingers skimming lightly over Anakin's cock. "Please, Anakin, I… I need…" he gasped, rocking his hips against Anakin's insistently.

Anakin ran his hand down the length of Obi-Wan's back, over the curve of his ass, wanting nothing more than to claim Obi-Wan as his own right away, to push deep inside of him and –

His thoughts must have bled into the Force, as Obi-Wan moaned tightly, his head falling back as he gasped. Anakin tried to calm his breathing, to maintain some sense of reality as he brushed one finger over the entrance to Obi-Wan's body.

"Do you…" Anakin swallowed thickly, his pulse thundering in his ears. "Do you have anything to….?"

Obi-Wan stared a moment at him blankly, before the lust cleared from his eyes. Realization came swiftly, and Anakin saw his lover's cheeks flare with embarrassment as Obi-Wan ducked his head.

"I… I got rid of… everything. I-I didn't think I would need…." Obi-Wan shrugged half-heartedly, glancing quickly at Anakin. "I didn't want anyone else."

Anakin caressed Obi-Wan's cheek, brushing back the tousled strands of hair from that beloved face. "I… I don't want to hurt you." he whispered quietly. This could wait. They had waited three years to be together again; it didn't matter if they had to wait one more day.

"You won't." Obi-Wan replied softly, a faint smile crinkling the lines at the corner of his eyes. "I trust you, Anakin."

Those simple words were enough to undo Anakin completely. Trust. Anakin could feel it shining in the Force between them, something he hadn't thought to ever receive from Obi-Wan ever again. With a muffled curse, he cast around the room with desperation, his eyes finally landing on the jar of bacta salve that Padmé had left on the kitchen counter. It wasn't perfect, but it would do.

Obi-Wan half-twisted around, following Anakin's line of sight. The wicked smirk that he shot quickly in Anakin's direction made the younger Jedi Knight shiver deliciously, ripples of desire running through his entire body and pooling at his groin. With a drawn out moan, Anakin stretched out one hand, calling the bacta into his hand. He felt Obi-Wan reach into the Force at the same time, and the jar smacked into his hand hard enough to sting from the strength of their combined desire.

Obi-Wan met Anakin's eyes impishly, chuckling low in his throat. Anakin captured his lips in a bruising kiss once more; caressing the length of Obi-Wan's back in long firm strokes while using the Force to open the jar of bacta. Quickly he slicked it over his fingers, gently brushing the pad of his finger over Obi-Wan's entrance in mute question.

Obi-Wan shivered, nodding tightly as his hands clenched convulsively on Anakin's shoulders. Anakin pressed his lips against the base of Obi-Wan's neck, kissing him softly, tenderly.

Obi-Wan ground his hips against Anakin's own, throwing his head back and whimpering harshly as Anakin gently worked two fingers inside of him, scissoring them apart. His back arched, pressing his sweat-slick chest against Anakin's own, still covered in a thin black tunic.

"Anakin -!" Oh, that voice was addicting, breathless and rough with lust as Anakin added a third finger. He wanted to prepare Obi-Wan thoroughly, anxious even through the desire that made his blood froth in his veins not to hurt Obi-Wan at all. Already achingly hard from Obi-Wan pressed against him so tightly, Anakin felt an incredible wave of heat surge to his groin at Obi-Wan's gasping cry of his name.

For a brief instant, Anakin was half tempted to keep teasing, if only to have his usually reserved lover gasp and wriggle more. But then their positions were reversed as Obi-Wan slicked the cool salve over Anakin's erect cock. The older Jedi teased him with gentle strokes of his fingers, until Anakin was panting and moaning incoherently, desperate for more contact.

Pulling Obi-Wan more firmly against him, Anakin nuzzled and licked the hollow of his lover's throat. When Obi-Wan arched enthusiastically against him, Anakin slid his hands down the back of Obi-Wan's legs, giving him more leverage and effectively blocking his own range of movements. He knew what Obi-Wan wanted – what he _needed_ – from him, and was offering himself soundlessly, letting Obi-Wan take control. It wasn't a sacrifice at all – the Jedi Master already owned his heart and soul.

Obi-Wan kissed Anakin languidly, pushing up against his hands before lowering himself back down, taking Anakin's cock inside of him slowly. Anakin cried out sharply at the sensation of that tight heat encasing him, echoing Obi-Wan's sharp moan as their bodies came together. The sight of Obi-Wan's face, eyes closed and head thrown back in pleasure made Anakin wild with the need to touch and taste him. His fingers tightened reflexively against the back of Obi-Wan's legs, hard enough to bruise, but neither one noticed.

Anakin felt a profound shudder of pleasure ripple through him as his cock was fully taken into Obi-Wan's body. Obi-Wan held still for a moment, resting his forehead against Anakin's own, breathing heavily. Anakin could feel their Force signatures slide against each other with sensuous friction, beginning to entwine in an echo of their physical bodies.

"I love you," Obi-Wan whispered quietly, voice trailing off into a quiet moan as he began to move. Anakin thrust upwards against him, kissing Obi-Wan again as the tempo of this lover's kata became faster, more passionate. He felt Obi-Wan's fingers dig deeply into his shoulders, and rested his head against Obi-Wan's shoulder, moaning loudly against his pale skin.

Anakin felt that there should have been some explosion of light, a chorus of voices in the Force celebrating as their bond burst back into life. But it was a quiet realization that still shook him soundly. A sudden feeling of completion that made tears well up in Anakin's eyes once again. Obi-Wan gasped softly at the same time, eyes opening and locking on Anakin's own as his body tensed in climax. Anakin held that gaze, pouring all his love for Obi-Wan into the connection between them as he was swept away by the force of his own orgasm.

Obi-Wan slumped bonelessly, pressing a tired kiss on Anakin's forehead before pillowing his head on his lover's shoulder. Anakin could feel the tired smile on Obi-Wan's lips, pressed against his skin.

Feeling a similar smile curving his lips, Anakin closed his eyes and rested his head against Obi-Wan's own, while reaching out through the tenuous bond. It was still fragile, still new and faint. But it was there.

_(I love you so much.)_

_(I love you too, Anakin. More than anything, I love you.)_

----

A leaden weight landing on Anakin's chest made him wake up suddenly; gasping as all the air was driven from his lungs.

Windu glared down at him, pausing in washing one paw as though irate that his chosen mattress would _dare_ to complain at the honour of being chosen for a resting spot. Anakin tried to glower back for a moment – Sith damn it, but he hadn't known the Force-forsaken cat was still alive – but he couldn't maintain the pretence of anger. Against his volition, he felt a lazy grin spread over his features, a grin that widened as the slumbering Jedi who was using his shoulder as a pillow muttered and curled closer in his sleep. They had almost fallen asleep on the couch the night before, an uncomfortable tangle of limbs that Anakin had been reluctant to leave. He had to admit that the bed was much more comfortable, as Obi-Wan had promised, and gave him more room to wrap himself around his lover's body.

If it was a dream, Anakin knew he never wanted to wake up from it. He still half expected to blink and find himself back in his empty apartments, curled up alone in his sad little bed. But Obi-Wan's cheek snuggled against his shoulder felt real, the soft puff of warm air across Anakin's bare skin a tangible reminder that he was where he belonged once again.

Freeing one hand from the tangle of blankets, Anakin absently stroked Windu's fur; ready to snatch it back should the cat decide to take a swipe at him. But the vicious animal only opened one golden eye sleepily, and curled himself up tighter; a fuzzy black hole on Anakin's chest.

Anakin smiled, closing his eyes and letting sleep gently tug him back under. He was home again.

-----

_"I don't want to lose you,  
I don't want to become a memory,  
So hold on to me.  
You're a million miles away,  
But I am still the same as yesterday..." _

Counting the Stars, Waking Ashland


End file.
